


Brothers in Flames

by camelot_king



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst and Feels, Bonding, Daegal is actually a Druid, Fate & Destiny, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, M/M, Merlin's Magic Revealed (Merlin), Protective Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Uther is an idiot, druid daegal, merlin blames himself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24540001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camelot_king/pseuds/camelot_king
Summary: He let out half of a strangled shout, throwing the scarf down from the high tower with shaking hands, and watching as it fell off the turrets, fluttering like a small kite in the wind as it disappeared from sight. The people looked like ants from his perspective.Merlin wondered fleetingly if that was how Uther felt when he sentenced people. Like he was simply crushing another ant under his boot.a.k.a.Merlin is fed up when Uther sentences an innocent Druid boy to die, and appeals to Arthur, telling him that the boy is his brother. Through layered secrets and risky escapes, can Merlin and Arthur get through this trial without falling apart?
Relationships: Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 105
Kudos: 269





	1. Trials of Destiny

Merlin was terrified of Uther Pendragon. 

Sure, he had more than enough magic to take down a King, and probably half of Camelot’s army. He could start a rebellion at that very moment if he wished-- if it weren’t for his unshakable devotion to Arthur. 

But there was something about Uther that simply made his skin crawl-- the man stood, a strange mix of pride and delusion, denying that the blood of thousands of innocents was even worth living. That they were even human.

Uther was a paranoid, old tyrant, and they all knew it. And no one dared stop him directly. 

Funnily enough, it was always Arthur they tried to kill-- which Merlin, in a strange way, could understand. Arthur was Uther’s Achilles heel, the only part of him that had some hope of swaying his cold, iron heart.

Sorcerers didn’t want Uther to have an easy death, they wanted him to feel the pain that they had felt. The families they had lost. 

An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

A son for a son. 

It didn’t mean it made it any easier knowing that he was the only sorcerer who could potentially end Uther’s reign, standing like a shadow behind Arthur, grappling with the irony of destiny, having the terrible job of CHOOSING who he could save. 

Most days Merlin was able to stand above his cruel destiny. To have faith. To be strong. 

Today was not most days. 

Merlin stood slightly behind Arthur-- who stood stoically and respectfully, staring at the thin, pale boy-- blue eyes flicking around nervously, two guards on either side with hands fixed on his shoulders. 

It was a bit unsettling how much of himself he could see in him. The pale boy had dark, short hair, the same gangly build, he even had a similar style tunic on. 

He also had a clear imprint of a Druid symbol on his exposed collarbone.

“This boy was caught using unidentifiable magic,” Uther was explaining, spitting out the word magic like it was a curse, “muttering strange words just within Camelot’s borders.” 

The boy’s mouth thinned, looking down with a sort of helplessness and fear that Merlin had seen one too many times.

The court muttered amongst themselves for a moment, sounding grim and nervous. 

Gaius, who stood near a wall, stepped forward hesitatingly. The King was not to be trifled with, and especially not with magic. Merlin met eyes with him pleadingly and Gaius shot him a subtle nod. 

“If I may, my lord,” he started carefully, “the type of enchantment that you describe could very well be a Druid healing ritual. More like a ‘good luck’ charm, if you will which are harmless. I… have looked into such rituals myself, and strongly believe that is the case.” 

The boy glanced up at Gaius, something loosening in his expression, but Uther continued on ruthlessly. 

“Nevertheless,” Uther countered grimly, “we cannot risk this… ‘good luck charm’ being some sort of ruse. Some kind of plot against the crown.”

Arthur shifted slightly, turning to look at his father with a tinge of incredulity. 

“Father, surely,” he cajoled, with a disbelieving glance at the wisp of a boy between the two muscular guards, “the Druids are peaceful people. I doubt that they would be planning some sort of… ruse.” 

Uther shook his head, sparing Arthur a grim glance before rising from his throne. 

“Then they should have stayed out of Camelot,” he snapped, eyes fiery, “they know that… magic is not to be tolerated in my kingdom. Druid or not, this boy is a clear danger to the throne. We will NOT take such a risk in Camelot.” 

“Sire, surely if we let the boy speak, banish him instead--” Gaius started again, eyebrows furrow and shoulders tense, but Uther merely raised his hand to silence him. Merlin watched, nauseous, knowing what was to come. 

Hating Uther for it. 

Hating everyone else for staying silent. 

But most of all, hating himself. 

He took in a deep shaky breath, trying to become a statue. To not feel. To remember his destiny. To remember why he must stay silent.

But there was too much, roiling within him, as the boy finally looked up, mouth twitching down and eyes wild and frightened. 

Like Freya, when she looked up at him for the first time, eyes carefully anticipating his next move and flinching back when he got too close. 

Like Mordred, merely a young boy, staring quietly up at Morgana and Merlin as they plotted and planned on how to save him, unable to utter a word aloud to them.

Like Morgana, when the nightmares had started, blue eyes paralyzed in fear and pain. 

Merlin swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in his throat.

Blue eyes met blue, the druid boy’s mouth opened slightly in recognition. 

“For sorcery, there is but one sentence I can pass,” Uther was saying casually, “the pyre will be lit at dawn. He is to be sentenced to death.” 

The was a scuffle of activity, as Uther nodded impressively, Arthur stepped down from the raised platform on which he and Merlin stood to observe such events, Gaius walked forward to Uther-- a steely look in his eye, the two of them starting out of the hall. 

Merlin simply stood, still as a statue, hands clenching and unclenching and breath stuck in his throat. The boy was still looking at him, a tear slowly rolling down his cheek.

‘Emrys,’ a tiny voice echoed in Merlin’s mind, loud and terrified, ‘Emrys, I am one of your own. They caught me-- I didn’t mean to, I didn’t know.’

There was no blame in the boy’s gaze. Only a look of sheer desperation and devotion. There was an innocence to it, one that Merlin felt to his very core like he’d just been sliced open with a blade.

This could have easily been him.

Merlin could feel his breath quickening, his eyes welling up, and suddenly the knight’s flowing capes seemed more like pools of blood, flowing through the impressive aisles of the court. The people milling around were already the executioners, their swords glinting dangerously in the light, their colors far too bright. 

Bright like fire. 

Their muttered conversations suddenly seemed more like condemnations, the boy’s shouts as he would die, flames licking his limbs. 

Too loud. 

Too bright. 

Too much.

‘Emrys, please,’ the voice was begging, louder now as if he was speaking into his ear, ‘I didn’t mean it, I really didn’t, I was just trying to do a protection charm, I didn’t do anything wrong, Emrys please,’

EmrysEmrysEmrysEmrysEmrys

‘I’m sorry,’ he could only think numbly back, ‘I’m so sorry,’ 

I’msorryI’msorryI’msorryI’msorry

‘Emrys!’ the voice cried out, ‘Emrys help me!’ 

The guards were starting to drag him away, but the boy-- silent to anyone but Merlin-- continued to look beseechingly at him, stumbling back stubbornly against the guards’ grip for a moment.

“I’m sorry too,” the boy whispered aloud, something breaking in his expression, a look of acceptance and defeat, but there was no hatred.

‘Emrys, I’m sorry.’ he said quietly again, through his thoughts. Merlin choked on his breath, eyes burning, and then the boy and his thoughts were gone.

“Merlin, we really must go,” Arthur was saying seriously but distractedly, “you still need to clean my armor, do the laundry and help write that speech about the grain stores I told you about this morning, I’ll need that for tomorrow when I have that council meeting…”

The rest of Arthur’s speech was drowned out by the echoes of the boy’s pleads, and Merlin let out an uneven exhale, trying to swallow his tears. 

EmryshelpmeEmryshelpmeEmrysplease

Emrys, please.

He sucked in another gasping, sharp breath, brushing roughly past Arthur without looking back, shoving through crowds of knights, and rushing through the hallways that were swirling with activity. 

Red, red like blood seeped into the knight’s cheerful greeting smiles as Merlin rushed by. The bags of linens that maids carried looked more like body bags. The clomp of horse hooves clattered ominously like marching boots in the back of his mind. 

It was all far too loud. 

He didn’t know how far he had run until he was there, standing in the quiet turrets of the castle, crisp fall air gently brushing his face. 

He leaned against the small wall, finally letting out a choked sob and putting his head into his hands.

God’s above, he had been about to polish Arthur’s armor, all while a poor, innocent boy was being sent to die.

His hands skittered to his neck, wrenching off his red neck kerchief, feeling suffocated and panicked. It sat in his hands for a moment, a traitorous Pendragon red. Blood red.

He let out half of a strangled shout, throwing the scarf down from the high tower with shaking hands, and watching as it fell off the turrets, fluttering like a small kite in the wind it disappeared from sight. The people looked like ants from his perspective. 

Merlin wondered fleetingly if that was how Uther felt when he sentenced people. Like he was simply crushing another ant under his boot. 

Emrys, please. 

Emrys, I didn’t mean to.

Emrys, I’m sorry.

Merlin sunk to the ground against the wall, almost dizzy with panic and strangled with guilt. He punched the ground, hard against the stone floor, again and again, not caring that his knuckles came back up bruised and scraped.

‘I’d deserve it.’ 

He let out a shaky groan, hardly noticing the tears streaming down his face.

The boy, despite being sentenced to death, had apologized to him. And Merlin had done nothing, yet again. 

“Useless,” he moaned, putting his head between his knees and tugging at his hair, “stupid, useless-- can’t do anything right you--” 

His breathes were faster now, sobbing into his hands at the injustice of it all, the only thing keeping him somewhat level the cool, stone ground beneath him. Everything else was a cacophony of white noise built up of the screams of all the people he had failed, the voices of the dead ringing in his ears.

He clutched his knees, mind racing. All the failures. All the poor decisions. All the sacrifice. What was he even doing-- 

“Merlin, there you are,” Arthur’s familiar voice called out loudly, before gentler, “Merlin, what’s wrong?” 

Merlin merely shook his head, curling away from the voice, trembling.

“S-sire,” he said between gasps, “I’m sorry,”

He could hear Arthur squatting down next to him, and feel his careful hand light on his back, as though he was scared of scaring Merlin off. 

“You can tell me, you know,” Arthur said, voice low.

Merlin tried and failed to get his breathing under control, coughing wetly, eyes blurry with tears. More lies. More pain. Arthur would never forgive you. Arthur would never love you. Arthur would never could never--

“I c-can’t, I’m sorry, I can’t,” Merlin started, voice coming out high and uneven, “I can’t I just-- I’m so sorry--”

Distant. Alone. Afraid.

Arthur shushed him worriedly, hand moving from his back to gripping his shoulder. Pulling him back to the present. 

“Gods above-- Merlin--” Arthur was saying in worried exasperation, “don’t tell me, then… just breathe. Breathe with me.” 

Merlin nodded, closing his eyes and trying to focus on Arthur, who was breathing deep, calming breaths. They had sat there in silence repeating the exercise, Merlin’s head between his knees, until Merlin stopped trembling, almost completely still.

Merlin let out a shaky sigh, and Arthur squeezed his shoulder. Merlin cleared his throat, awkwardly wiping off his wet face with the sleeve of his jacket before glancing uncertainly up at Arthur.

Arthur was looking at him, eyes flickering with worry, but he quickly looked away, shielding any concern that had resided in them in favor of staring straight ahead after he saw Merlin meet his eyes, still wiping his tears, hoping to spare his pride. 

Merlin’s mouth twitched minutely. He had no pride in himself, to begin with.

“S’alright,” he said softly, “I-- I know I look bad.” 

Arthur looked slightly relieved at Merlin’s somewhat coherent response, concerned look returning.

“Now do you want to tell me what the hell this is all about?” Arthur asked hesitantly. Merlin glanced back down again, mouth twitching. 

“I--” Merlin started, at a bit of a loss. What lie could warrant such an emotional response? What could he even SAY to that? 

‘Oh, yeah, Arthur, I was just speaking telepathically to the boy your father just sentenced to death.’ 

Definitely not the truth.

He sniffed, flushing nervously and heart pounding. 

Arthur sighed.

“It was the boy, wasn’t it,” Arthur said in the same hesitant tone, “the druid boy,”

Merlin flinched violently at that, looking at Arthur in unbridled panic. Had they been speaking aloud by accident or something?

“Wh- what?” he whispered blankly, his heart suddenly racing again, “why do you say--” 

“He was looking at you,” Arthur remarked, eyes searching him worriedly at his violent response, “he was looking at you the whole time during his… sentencing.”  
“No-- no,” Merlin denied quickly, hands trembling, “I-- he wasn’t-- he-- it wasn’t me--” 

“Easy Merlin,” Arthur said slowly as if approaching a frightened horse, “you’re not in any trouble.”

Merlin nodded jerkily, eyes wide, not really sure where Arthur was going with it. Arthur turned, even more, shuffling around until he was facing him. 

“Just… did you know him? Is that why you… is that why?” Arthur probed, eyebrows furrowed.

Merlin looked down, cursing himself for having reacted the way he did. Now there was no way that Arthur would believe that it WASN’T about the druid boy. Merlin’s hand ghosted over his neck, moving to tug at the absent neck-kerchief in his nervousness. 

“Did-- did he hurt you?” Arthur put forth hesitantly. Merlin jerked up to look at him in surprise.

“What-- no!” he said vehemently, “no, he did not hurt me.” 

He didn’t do anything to anybody, Merlin thought mournfully.

Arthur looked even more perturbed at this bold statement.

“He’s…” Merlin started, searching helplessly in his already fuzzy mindscape for an adequate lie. 

He could say it was a resemblance to someone else.  
Perhaps a memory he had that was still painful.  
Maybe it was something that had happened at home.

He finally stilled, expression flattening for a moment, and mouth thinning in determination as he remembered those bright blue eyes staring straight through him. Pleading. The boy had no shadowed destiny like Morgana and Mordred, no innocence lost. 

No, he couldn’t do it this time. He couldn’t be Uther, crushing bugs under his boot, not listening to their cries. 

‘I’m sorry, Emrys.’ 

No, he wouldn’t let this boy down twice, he promised himself, something hardening in his chest. It had been one life too many. 

He suddenly thought of Morgana and wondered if this was how she felt when she had met Mordred after years of watching Uther execute magic-users. 

Yes, Merlin thought, he would always be loyal to Arthur. That would never change.

But he never wanted to feel like Uther ever again. 

“He’s-- he’s my little brother,” Merlin whispered, at last, his halting, broken tone enough to make Arthur’s breath catch in surprise and horror. 

And that was how it began.


	2. First Glimpses

“Your little brother?” Arthur repeated, tensing in shock and dismay. Merlin ducked his head, eyes widening, the story piecing itself together like puzzle pieces in his scattered mind.

Merlin simply nodded, finally meeting Arthur’s sharp gaze. 

“Merlin-- he’s-- he's a Druid. How is he your brother?” Arthur questioned, sounding a bit confused. 

“My father, you know that he…” he whispered, after a long, tense moment, “...he left when I was very young-- and he-- he was a Druid.” 

Arthur processed this, mouth hanging open in comical shock. Merlin shifted uncomfortably.

“Your father-- then why did he leave? Why--” Arthur pressed on cautiously. Merlin cleared his throat. He didn’t have to dream up an excuse too far off, having pondered what had happened to his absent father for years.

“He had magic, he and my... my brother,” Merlin fabricated quietly, “and he wanted to keep my mother and me safe…”

‘From Uther.’ the sentence finished un-uttered in both of their minds. He could see Arthur’s mouth twitch at this, a look of pity and conflict entering his gaze.

“H-he wasn’t doing anything,” Merlin pleaded, eyes welling up again, “it was just a protection charm of some sort. You heard what Gaius said.” 

“Merlin…” Arthur trailed off. 

“I know you won’t believe me,” Merlin continued softly, “but magic can be a force for good. He’s-- he’s made pictures out of flames, flowers out of rocks-- just harmless things. He’d heal little cuts and play pranks...”

He trembled, his words ceasing to be about the druid boy and more about the small, messy-haired outcast from Ealdor, one with a terrible, beautiful secret.

“... just harmless things,” Merlin repeated, voice breaking, and he fixed his eyes back down to his knees. 

“I just… didn’t expect that when I saw him again…” Merlin explained haltingly, “th-that it would be his execution.” 

Arthur let out a pained gasp at this confession. 

“I believe you,” Arthur said softly, firmly, expression softening in an instant, and Merlin had to chase away the sudden pang of guilt in favor of the relief he felt at Arthur’s words. 

“My father…” Arthur said softly, expression troubled, “he is not the most… reasonable when it comes to magic.” 

Merlin snorted. That was putting it lightly. Arthur sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“The druids… they are peaceful,” Arthur said in the same, distant tone, jaw set. Merlin nodded vigorously, stumbling to his feet in an instant. Arthur followed suit, putting a steadying hand on Merlin’s shoulder and levelly meeting his gaze.

“I will help you and your brother,” Arthur told Merlin finally, with an authority of a future King, “we will… visit him tonight. Come up with a plan.”

Merlin nodded, blinking at Arthur’s ready support for him. Arthur sighed agitatedly, running a hand through his hair.

“He’s your family,” Arthur explained in the same, funny tone, “I can’t guarantee anything, but I don’t want you to lose that. Not-- not when you’ve been so loyal to me. To the crown.” 

Merlin’s stomach twisted at the word 'loyal', but he pushed down the rise of emotion once more, determination entering his stance. It was a good lie this time. A good lie.

“Arthur,” he started unsteadily, gazing up at the man with a thin smile, “thank you.”

Arthur merely nodded, eyes dark with worry, but spared Merlin a small, comforting look. It was a bittersweet moment for Merlin.

Arthur never had hidden behind a wall of lies in his life, or even suspected that Merlin could be lying about anything.

‘Arthur has a good heart’, Merlin thought ruefully, ‘a far better one than mine.’

___

The dungeons were quiet and somber at night. Merlin and Arthur said very little to one another on the way down, merely trading a careful glance before embarking down the endless stone stairs into the enveloping darkness.

Reaching the entrance, the guard’s wary looks at Merlin fading as they saw Arthur standing at his side. 

“Your highness,” one of the guards greeted confusedly, “we… weren’t expecting you.” 

“Here to interrogate the druid boy,” Arthur lied casually at the guard’s questioning looks, “to see if the prisoner had any motives against Camelot. No need to stand guard over me for a simple boy.” 

The guards nodded dutifully, trustingly, before going back to the table out in the hallway, one of the guards shuffling some cards in the light of a small candle. 

Merlin could feel Arthur’s uncomfortableness at the lie as they continued, though he hid it well behind his powerful, sure footfalls. They continued on, swiftly passing empty cell after empty cell, their breaths loud in the cavernous, echoey space. 

Finally, they arrived at the cell where the boy sat huddled, quiet and vulnerable looking, eyes fixed on the opposite wall and a sliver of moonlight shining on his face through a window. Arthur cleared his throat.

The boy jumped up at once at the sight of the blonde, and then at Merlin, letting out a hitched gasp, eyes dilating in fear. 

‘It’s not time yet, I am not to be burned yet,’ he thought fearfully at Merlin who shook his head with a meaningful look, heart-clenching at the boy’s raw fear.

Arthur unlocked the door, and the two slipped inside, the door shutting behind them with a clang. Arthur said nothing, glancing at Merlin. Merlin took a deep breath. 

This had to work.

‘I’m getting you out of here,’ Merlin sent the thought quickly, ‘and my name here is not Emrys, it is Merlin. He does not know that I am Emrys OR that I have magic.’

The boy just stared uncomprehendingly at him, terror still in his eyes, stepping back unconsciously. Arthur shifted uncomfortably, eyes bouncing between the two confusedly.

Merlin pushed down his nervousness in favor of determination to win his trust. He would save this boy if it was the last thing he did.

‘Say my name, Merlin, aloud,’ Merlin commanded urgently through his mind, ‘SAY IT,’ 

“Merlin,” the boy whispered obediently, still staring wide-eyed at him, “Merlin?” 

‘What is your name?’ Merlin sent the thought quickly. 

‘It is Daegal,’ the boy thought back in an instant, with the same, trustful blue eyes. The boy wrung his hands, holding himself up with reluctant bravery, eyes flicking again toward Arthur nervously. 

‘Daegal, I need you to go along with what I am about to say,’ Merlin thought firmly, ‘Everything I say, do you understand?’ 

‘Of course, Emrys,’ Daegal shot back, thoughts desperate and relieved. Daegal took a deep breath, relaxing slightly at Merlin’s kind smile. 

“Daegal,” Merlin greeted aloud, not having to fake any of the overwhelming emotions in his tone, “I’ve missed you.” 

“Merlin,” Daegal repeated again, with a tiny smile, eyes questioning and tentative. Merlin grasped his shoulder, looking him in the eye meaningfully before clutching him into a brotherly hug. Daegal, fortunately, took his word quite seriously and took the hug without question, burying his face in Merlin’s shoulder (though Merlin could feel his nervous body trembling through his coat). 

“It’s going to be alright,” Merlin breathed comfortingly into his ear, before pulling back slightly, hands still on his shoulders, to take a good look at him as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of the night.

Daegal looked even younger up close-- his features still boyish, scrawny, with a smattering of freckles lightly dusting his cheeks. He looked to be 15 or 16 at most. His eyes were wide and innocent, reminding Merlin of the startled look of a deer in a forest. 

Thankfully, the boy actually DID look somewhat like him-- his feathery dark hair was a shade lighter than Merlin’s, but still, his similar style of clothing and his big blue eyes matched Merlin’s almost perfectly. 

“My brother,” Merlin said finally, with a sad smile, “it’s been too long.” 

Daegal’s eyes widened in understanding. He shot Merlin a fond, but nervous smile back. 

“I’m-- I’m very sorry, Merlin,” Daegal explained breathlessly with a vulnerable genuineness that Merlin was surprised by, “I never meant to come to Camelot. I didn’t know that I was over the border.”

“I’m sorry too,” Merlin replied honestly with layered meaning, “that we’ve met like this.”

Merlin turned to Arthur, who had their eyes fixed on the two with a strange, solemn look. 

“This is Arthur,” Merlin introduced softly, thin note of warning in his tone, “Prince Arthur. Arthur, this is my little brother Daegal.” 

Daegal gulped, shooting Merlin a slightly frantic look. He edged toward him slightly before nodding carefully at Arthur. 

‘It’s alright, Daegal,’ Merlin soothed mentally, ‘he won’t hurt you.’

He had known the fear of the men in red coats all too well as a child-- though he hardly blinked an eye at them anymore, he understood all too well, Daegal’s reaction. 

To those in the forest, there were no honorable Knights of Camelot. There were only the men that come to burn you. 

“Hello, sire,” Daegal greeted softly, evidently trying to force a tremulous smile on his face, before ducking his head down again. Arthur met eyes with Merlin, an uncharacteristically helpless look on his face at Daegal’s fear.

“Don’t worry, Daegal, Arthur’s here to help,” Merlin said aloud, though the soothing words seemed to cause both men to relax slightly.

“It’s nice to meet you, Daegal, though I wish it weren’t… under these circumstances,” Arthur greeted, tone still stiff and awkward, but his composure softening slightly at Daegal’s obvious fear, “I-- we’ve come to make a plan to get you out of here.” 

Daegal’s head jerked up in surprise.

“Really?” he said in a hushed voice, eyeing Merlin in honest shock. Merlin supposed it WOULD be a bit strange, as a magic-user, to be saved by the son of the man who convicted you. Merlin internally smiled. There was the very reason he was so loyal to Arthur. 

“My father’s sentence was far too harsh, especially if you didn’t know you were within the borders,” Arthur explained formally, arms crossed, “and… as Merlin’s brother…”

He trailed off, shrugging as if it was no great thing, and smiling slightly at Daegal’s grateful look. Arthur nodded his recognition before continuing on with a more serious look on his face.

“It won’t be easy, and we’ll have to do this right. You must go along with what I say. ALL of what I say.” Arthur stated grimly, unknowingly echoing Merlin’s mental words.

Daegal nodded vigorously, eyes flickering in surprise, but mouth thinned in determination. 

“Of course, Sire,” he agreed quickly, rocking on his heels.

“Merlin and I,” Arthur said commandingly, eyes blazing and sharp, “will have the sudden desire to go on a hunting trip that leaves tomorrow morning. I shall dismiss the guards tonight under the pretense… well, you’re the only prisoner here at the moment, and... you seem pretty harmless.” 

Daegal’s mouth dropped slightly, looking almost like he didn’t believe this moment was happening. He nodded again, apparently not trusting himself to speak. 

“Daegal, you will spend a few more hours here after we have left, just in case there are straggler guards,” Merlin continued softly, “and then I will come to release you.”

“Th-thank you, thank you so much,” Daegal said breathlessly, eyes deep with heartfelt gratitude toward Merlin, and then more hesitantly toward Arthur, “I… understand that this-- this puts you in kind of a tight spot.” 

Merlin’s heart warmed at Daegal’s kindness despite his situation, and even Arthur smiled a bit more genuinely at the boy, eyes sparkling. 

“Not if all goes according to plan,” Arthur stated briskly, “which it will.” 

The three stood quietly, grinning at each other for a moment. 

“Merlin…” Daegal started, looking a bit speechless with awe at the man he only knew as a figure of prophecy. 

Merlin shook his head, letting out a relieved sigh and a half-smile, ruffling his hair. As Daegal smiled shyly up at him, and all of Merlin’s worries and fears seemed to slip away. He found it easy to treat the boy as a sort of younger brother, even if he was a stranger to him. 

“You’re my brother,” Merlin said firmly, and then more amusedly, “though how you get yourself in these situations is beyond me.” 

“Sorry,” Daegal whispered sheepishly, hesitant look returning. Merlin shook his head, meeting Daegal’s eyes intensely.

‘You are my brother in magic,’ Merlin repeated in his thoughts, ‘I promise I will be back.’ 

Daegal smiled at him, eyes shining, nodding at the two as they slipped quietly out of the cell, as though they hadn’t been there in the first place.

They continued down the hall shoulder to shoulder, their silence more determined and comfortable than the stifling tension of their entrance. 

Arthur clapped Merlin on the shoulder, seeming more sure of himself once having met Daegal, and leaning down slightly. 

“Don’t worry, Merlin,” he said softly, comfortingly, “it will work, you’ll see. Your brother is safe.” 

Just before they turned to go up the stairs, Merlin heard a tiny voice in his head. 

‘Thank you, Emrys.’ it said fervently. Merlin smiled to himself, heart lighter than it had been in a long time.

Merlin steeled himself, more determined than ever to get something right in his strange existence. 

'It's either we execute the plan perfectly, or get executed together.' Merlin thought to himself grimly, eyes sparkling subtly with gold.


	3. The Escape

Merlin paced, shifting the pale blue cloak in his hands and forcing himself to take a deep breath. For once, Arthur did not comment on Merlin’s obvious agitation as he paced his chambers, looking just as tense and serious himself. 

“The guards should be gone by now, you should go,” Arthur commanded urgently, staring out his small window, the cool night air making him shiver. The sky was just beginning to light up, a deep blue blanketing the quiet city. He turned back to Merlin, looking him up and down critically with his hands on his hips.

“And you are SURE you have everything you need-- you have our clothes, food, everything?” Arthur repeated for what seemed like the tenth time, "It will be useful in case we are separated."

“Yes, yes,” Merlin reassured him softly, “I should go.”

He turned determinedly, walking surely toward the door, but hesitating before he left. 

“Arthur,” he said softly, “if-- if something goes wrong, I want you to know that it isn’t your fault.”

‘It’s mine,’ he thought. 

Arthur snorted, moodily crossing his arms.

“Nothing will go wrong, you’re just being stupid,” he insisted stubbornly, masking any sign of worry with an insult. Merlin raised an eyebrow at him, unimpressed.

“Just-- be careful, will you?” Arthur warned, deflating slightly, “I’ll meet you in the morning, just outside the city for our-- hunting escapade. Don’t be late as you usually are.” 

Merlin nodded, shooting the man a smile. Arthur smiled tightly in return before his mouth pulled into a worried scowl.

“Merlin, I--” Arthur started again, but cut himself off, fixing his gaze back to the window and sighing gustily. 

“I know,” Merlin replied softly, meaning it.

There were always words between the lines with Arthur, just as there were with Merlin. Both knew exactly what the other had meant, the way they always had known.

“The keys,” Arthur said quickly, stepping forward in one brisk motion and pressing two large keys into Merlin’s hand before closing his fingers over them with a meaningful look, “don’t lose them.” 

Arthur hesitated, holding Merlin's hand in his for a moment before letting go.

“I’ll see you later,” Merlin promised, looking deep into Arthur’s sharp blue eyes, clutching the keys in an iron grip before slipping out the door into the quiet castle. 

___

He only increased his speed as he reached the dungeons. It was completely dark-- not even the torchlight to light the way down like a dark abyss. The guards must have put the torches out as they had left. 

Merlin slunk cautiously down the stairs, what small light there had been at the entrance fading into pitch black. He shifted his satchel on his shoulder, clearing his throat.

“Hello?” Merlin announced cautiously, as a last precaution in case there were any lingering visitors or guards, “anyone there? Guards?” 

He hugged the wall, feeling the cold stone behind him, the echoes of his voice drifting back to him quietly. He could hear every step he took echo softly, seeming deafening in the quiet staircase, and a rhythmic drip of the ceiling seeming like it was right next to his ear. 

Merlin let out a shaky sigh, the keys jingling in his hand as he continued down. There was no response.

“Forbærne,” he muttered into his hand, a small spark of the fire flickered merrily in his palm, illuminating the path ahead of him in warm light. 

He hurried past the empty cells, not wanting to risk anyone seeing the strange sight before stopping in front of Daegal’s cell. As he had expected, the boy looked like he hadn’t slept a wink, standing nervously when he heard Merlin’s footsteps, and letting out a breath when he saw Merlin rush toward him. 

Merlin fumbled with the keys, opening the door quickly and wincing at the creaking noise it made. 

“Put these on, quickly now,” he ordered hurriedly, pushing the clothes into Daegal’s arms. Daegal nodded, silently stumbling into Merlin’s cast-off tunic and tying the coat lopsidedly around his shoulders. Merlin walked toward him pulling the hood over Daegal’s forehead firmly, fussing with the clasp, and glancing down at him, biting his lip.

“Wait,” Merlin said quickly, shoving the keys into his pocket and quickly undoing the blue neck-kerchief he was wearing. He rushed forward, carefully tying it around Daegal’s neck.

“To hide the symbol,” he explained quickly, softening enough to smile encouragingly at the boy. Daegal nodded, muttering his thanks, staring at Merlin wide-eyed and terrified. 

‘We’ve got this,’ Merlin thought simply, trying to put the boy’s mind at ease, but he could feel the uneasiness in both of their thoughts. 

Merlin merely took him by the elbow, pulling him out of the cell unceremoniously. They ran clumsily through the empty dungeon halls, their shadows flickering ominously against the walls by the light of Merlin’s flame. 

As they rushed up the stairs, Merlin quickly closed his palm to quench the magical fire as the light of the doorway welcomed them. He motioned for Daegal to stay behind him, poking his head out into the thankfully empty hallway. 

They walked briskly, silently, Merlin’s heart settling to a more normal pace only when they had reached the outside of the castle near the stables. The dark bluish-black sky was slowly fading, and he saw a few people starting their duties-- only the earliest of risers, and they merely nodded at Merlin uninterestedly before continuing. 

Merlin wasn’t about to take any chances though, knowing that Daegal was soon to be missed.

“Stay right here,” Merlin ordered softly, motioning Daegal to stay right outside the stable. The boy nodded trustingly, though he looked as if he wanted to bolt at any moment. Merlin didn’t blame him. 

Merlin slipped into the stable, untying two horses by simply muttering a spell and moved to pull them out of the entrance. He quickly prepared the saddles, using magic to secure them and hoping to god that nobody walked in on him.

“Easy,” he whispered to the horses, who backed up nervously at the use of magic, “easy, it’s alright.”

He’d always had a way with animals, and the horses followed him trustingly. 

“What’re you doin’ here boy, at this time in the morning?” a low, suspicious voice called out, making Merlin’s blood run cold. His head snapped up, heart racing with adrenaline. There was no one at the door, and this could only mean one thing-- they were talking to Daegal. 

“Um... I’m just-- I was told to find--um--” he heard Daegal start, voice high and unsure. 

Merlin quickly rushed out, bringing the horses with him, and forced a disarming smile on his face. To his immense relief, it wasn’t a knight or nobleman-- meaning they hadn’t been at Daegal’s trial, so he wouldn’t recognize the boy. It was merely Tyre, a stable boy who seemed to be getting to his duties earlier than usual. 

“Why hello there Tyre,” Merlin greeted charmingly. Tyre’s stern look faded slightly at the sight of Merlin.

“Merlin,” he replied pleasantly, suspiciousness fleeing his expression though he still looked a bit confused, “it’s rare for YOU to be out this early.”

Merlin laughed, rolling his eyes despite his nervousness. He did have a penchant for being late most of the time.

“Arthur wants to go for an early hunt, and guess who gets to go with him,” he explained deadpan, wrinkling his nose. Tyre chuckled, all too familiar with Merlin’s disdain with hunting. 

“And this boy? He’s not causing you any trouble?” Tyre asked curiously, jerking his head toward Daegal, who was very pale, and shifting from foot to foot unconciously. 

“Oh, that’s just....er... John, a new serving boy,” Merlin lied quickly, waving his hand dismissively, “I’m just... showing him the ropes. He’s… the shy type so I figured we’d do it before everyone was up.” 

Tyre laughed again, looking more at ease and rather amused at the prospect. 

“YOU, training someone?” Tyre said incredulously between chortles, “Now I’ve seen it all. Well, nice to meet ya John, have a good hunt. Make sure this one stays out of trouble.” 

Tyre clapped Daegal on the back with a wink, before making his way into the stable. Merlin grinned widely, nodding his head at Tyre, who continued into the stable with a cheerful parting wave. The stable door snapped closed with a snap and Merlin whirled around, grabbing Daegal by the elbow again. 

‘On the horse, now,’ Merlin sent the thought urgently, ‘more people are waking up. You’ll soon be missed.’

Daegal swallowed, eyes still wide, and the two quickly mounted the horses, galloping through the quiet town easily, and passing the sleepy guards at the gate without hitch. Merlin glanced at Daegal, half expecting the boy to gallop off into the forest at full speed in his fear, but he merely matched Merlin’s pace, hands clenching the reins so tightly that his knuckles were white.

It was only when they reached the quiet of the forest when both sighed in relief, looking at each other with twin smiles. 

“Thank you so much, Em-Merlin,” Daegal burst out, looking as though he was about to cry tears of relief, “I’m so sorry for making you go through all this trouble-- I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.” 

“Don’t mention it,” Merlin replied easily, simply glad that they were out of the castle, “I understand.” 

Daegal shook his head, and Merlin was happy to see some of the skittishness fading away as they rode further from the slowly waking city. 

“No, I-- it was so stupid,” Daegal muttered, blushing, “I was just having a bit of fun. Trying out a new charm like that-- near Camelot...” 

Merlin sighed, flashing back to the dragon of smoke he’d created once in the very same forest-- which had unintentionally prompted the arrival of the witchfinder. Merlin related more than ever to Daegal, a smile glimmering on his face. He’d been lucky enough to have the friends kind enough to help him and magic strong enough to win his case. 

Not everyone was so lucky.

“I’ve been there,” Merlin confessed softly. Daegal looked confused, eyebrows furrowing.

“You did something like that?” Daegal asked tentatively, sounding disbelieving. Merlin laughed, thinking of all of the strange conundrums he’d wiggled his way out of in his years in Camelot, but before he could elaborate, a familiar, loud voice broke their thoughts. 

“There you two are!”

Merlin and Daegal paused-- Daegal clutching again on the reins with vigor-- but it was merely a familiar blonde head poking out from the undergrowth, a glowing smile on his face. He looked almost like a commoner, dressed in his simple green tunic and dark slacks, but he walked forward leading his horse with the intensity and confidence of a knight. 

“Arthur!” Merlin greeted in relief. 

“I told you not to be late, Merlin,” Arthur chided with a scowl, shaking his finger at Merlin, “you made me hide behind a tree like an idiot for ages.”

“Oh, poor little Arthur, having to hide behind a tree while we perilously escaped a dungeon,” Merlin replied dramatically. Though Merlin knew it was just their familiar banter, Daegal shifted in shock, glancing between the two worriedly.

Arthur just grinned, gracefully mounted his horse and promptly punched Merlin in the shoulder. 

“Oi, no need to get violent on me, clotpole,” Merlin sniffed imperiously (resulting in an aghast look from Daegal). 

Arthur rolled his eyes, fixing Daegal with a long-suffering stare, before starting forward. They clomped quietly through the peaceful forest, anxiousness fading into the isolated walls of green, the sun shining through the rustling leaves and engulfing them in a warm glow.

“You have my pity,” he said with mock somberness, “this idiot was probably insufferable as a child.” 

Even Daegal cracked a grin at this, looking at Merlin again insecurely for a brief moment, but looked back at Arthur in an instant with a mischievous sparkle in his eye. 

“Well, Merlin always was a little troublemaker.” he fabricated slyly, causing Arthur to bark in laughter and Merlin to whirl and look at Daegal in surprise and mock betrayal. 

“Hey!” Merlin shot Daegal a dark look that was defeated by the smile creeping up his face. He had never pictured Daegal and Arthur getting along in this way as the Prince and a Druid boy, and it was quite refreshing.

Arthur snorted, sharing an evil smirk with a grinning Daegal (who’s timidness was quickly fading with Arthur's banter).

“You probably have some good stories about this one,” he said gleefully to Daegal as if Merlin had not butted in, with a smirk at Merlin’s disgruntled face.

‘Sorry Emrys,’ Daegal sent the thought, smiling, and not looking the least bit sorry. Merlin thanked his lucky stars that Daegal seemed comfortable talking to him. He’d always been a bit uncomfortable with the Druids-- though a peaceful group of people, they looked up to him with a sort of reverence that he just didn’t understand, speaking of vague prophecies and fixing him with knowing cold stares.

Daegal’s eyes sparkled merrily, looking surprised at Arthur’s friendliness-- then again, Merlin pondered, he’d only seen Arthur at his sentencing and when they were planning an escape. 

Merlin opened his mouth, probably to say some witty comeback when they heard something that made them all freeze.

It was the warning bells, tolling in fast, sharp strokes in the distance, their rings penetrating even the thick canvas of trees. 

Arthur’s friendly expression disappeared in an instance, and Daegal again looked tense and uncertain.

“We must hurry toward the mountains where you are from,” Arthur stated curtly, “your absence has undoubtedly been noticed.”

“Of course, Sire,” Daegal replied quickly, again looking like the boy that he had been at the trial. The one that had seen too much. The one facing his death in the flames. 

The three sped up silently, Arthur with a hand on the hilt of his dagger, Merlin tightening his satchel more securely to his shoulder, and Daegal's iron grip to the reins returning. They all suddenly remembering the goal at hand. 

They had gotten through phase one of the plan alright, but they were not out of the woods yet.


	4. Close Calls

Only as the sky faded again to the dark blue of the evening did the trio stop to make camp.

It had been a wearing ride, Arthur unsheathing his dagger at every small creature that rustled in the bushes, Merlin constantly whirling around to check that they weren’t being followed, and Daegal with a sharp, tired look in his eye that made him look too old and too jaded.

‘It is the curse’, Merlin supposed sadly, ‘of a magic-user to constantly look over their shoulder under Uther’s reign. To never truly be free.’ 

They had sat in a small circle, horses tied a few feet away, Daegal quietly making a tiny fire, sparking it to life with this magic when Arthur was looking away (and Arthur, kindly, did not comment on the unusual speed in which the fire came to be). 

Then Daegal, looking at Merlin with innocent devotion, had obeyed Merlin’s mental suggestion that he should get some rest, and that ‘We’ll keep watch for you, don’t you worry about a thing.’ 

It was then, when the moonlight flickered through the trees and birds ceased their singing, that Arthur and Merlin, still crouched around the dancing flames, watched the boy as he slept-- for the first time looking completely peaceful, breathes even and slow, curled into himself next to the fire. 

Merlin pulled his blanket further over the boy’s shoulder, a small smile on his face. Daegal looked younger when he was asleep like that, what innocence the trials of being magical had stolen from him returning to his face. He sighed, shifting a little in his sleep, eyes dancing behind his closed lids. 

“You’re good with him,” Arthur remarked quietly, and Merlin turned to look at him, heart warming at this uncharacteristic compliment. The blonde sat a little away, arms resting on his knees and a soft look on his face as he watched Merlin with Daegal.

“Thanks,” Merlin said, voice hushed, before scooting a bit closer to Arthur and adjusting his jacket, “...for everything.” 

Arthur smiled, shrugging nonchalantly, and leaning back on his hands, completely unbothered by the crisp air of the night. 

“You’ve helped me out before,” he said honestly, “just returning the favor.” 

“Still,” Merlin said resolutely, wanting Arthur to understand just how grateful he was, “I’m-- I’m just a servant. I do appreciate all this.” 

Arthur shook his head at that, jerking his head at Daegal.

“Bit of a quiet one, isn’t he,” Arthur commented, changing the subject, “I would have expected a brother of yours to never shut up.” 

Merlin rolled his eyes.

“He is a magic-user who just escaped from Camelot-- the kingdom that hates magic-- with the prince of the said kingdom,” he explained, half-amused and half-sad at the thought, “of course he’s a little bit quiet.” 

Arthur leaned forward again, fixing Merlin with an intense look with a curious furrow in his eyebrows. 

“But-- you’ve warned me about all those sorcerers plotting against the crown in the past,” Arthur commented softly, shaking his head in disbelief, “all while your brother is a magic-user himself.” 

They both glanced at the sleeping Daegal as he shifted a little in his sleep, still dead to the world. Merlin sighed.

“Well, those sorcerers were the bad kind, weren’t they,” Merlin muttered darkly, “they used magic for...the wrong end. Their evils, I mean…”

He shook his head.

“Daegal isn’t like that,” he said softly, but thinking of himself.

Arthur hummed in response, mulling it over. Merlin watched the man as he looked unseeingly through the silhouetted trees, deep in thought. The fire illuminating his face reflected in his eyes, and he looked almost magical to Merlin. 

“I suppose,” Arthur said finally, meeting Merlin’s gaze, “but it still must have been hard. Knowing, I mean, that... not all magic is bad. Living in Camelot.” 

Merlin’s heart skipped a beat. Arthur’s genuine affirmation hit closer to home than Merlin had expected. He thought of the many times he had longed for Arthur to realize that very fact. 

“No, it’s not all bad,” Merlin whispered, smiling tremulously, eyes shining with the sudden onslaught of emotions rising in his chest, “not at all.”

Arthur shifted, bringing his hands back to his knees, but not wavering his stare from Merlin.

“Besides,” Merlin continued quickly, with a quirky smile, “I met you, didn’t I? I...” 

Merlin looked down, flushing slightly at how personal the conversation was getting. 

“... I’ ve-- I’ve enjoyed all of our adventures together.” 

‘And I wouldn’t have traded them for the world,’ he thought to himself with a wistful look at Arthur.

Arthur let out a huff of amusement at that.

“Our adventures,” Arthur chuckled but didn’t remark any further. He looked at Merlin almost fondly, raising an eyebrow at him. 

“I’ll never understand you, Merlin,” Arthur said, voice low, “you… are a mystery I plan on solving.” 

Merlin glanced back up at him, watching the cool wind slipping through Arthur’s hair. Arthur’s words echoed softly in the quiet clearing, and leaves rustled gently before the contemplative silence returned. 

It never was like this back in Camelot, bustling with duties and stresses, Arthur constantly grappling with his Father, trying to be a good leader to his knights, and Merlin constantly trying to pick up the pieces of his destiny.

It wasn’t even like that on the good days when they’d banter with the knights and go on hunts together. Close, tantalizingly close, but never so close as they were now.

But here, in the enveloping, comfortable silence of the trees, there was an openness about Arthur that Merlin did not see very often. It was as if they belonged in the forest, all the layers of their titles and destinies peeling away until there were just the two of them.

Arthur hesitated for a moment before shifting closer to Merlin until their shoulders were touching. Merlin glanced up at him in surprise, but Arthur merely looked right back, a smile playing on his parted lips.

“Arthur…” Merlin breathed but trailed off, but then Arthur reached down, brushing his hand over Merlin’s.

Then before he could react, Arthur had closed the gap between them, his lips soft and sweet on his own, his strong hand gently carding through his hair, pulling him closer, and feeling his breath, his devotion-- the warmth of the fire seeming to culminate strong in Merlin’s chest. He let out a tiny sigh, feeling Arthur’s steady heartbeat like it was his own.

And for a long moment-- which could have blissfully been another hour, or a day, Merlin wouldn’t have cared-- Merlin let everything else in the strange world that he had existed in slip away into that wonderful warmth of Arthur’s lips on his, and further into Arthur’s arms. 

And for that moment, Merlin remembered why he felt like Camelot was his home.

Then that moment ended.

“Fan out,” a gravelly voice in the distance ordered. Merlin and Arthur jerked away from each other breathlessly with twin looks of horror. Arthur grabbed his sword in an instant, Merlin quickly quenching the fire under some dirt, the warmth of that moment was rudely ripped away along with the fire. Only the traitorous smoke still sifting through the air remained. 

They waited with bated breath seeming louder than they were, engulfed in darkness, listening to the footfalls of what seemed like an army of men. Merlin’s heart raced, and he looked helplessly at where Daegal lay, blissfully unaware of the danger, and kicking himself for not being able to be by his side without making a sound.

Arthur stood up, subtly shifting in front of Merlin and assuming a fighting stance, and Merlin crouched, ready to lunge over Daegal if needed. 

Then after a brief, hopeful moment of silence, three caped figures lunged out of the trees, swords glinting under the light of the moon. 

One of them lunged forward, sword clashing loud and metallic with Arthur’s in an instant. Merlin jumped up, grabbing a frying pan from the abandoned fire, desperate to arm himself with something that wouldn’t give away his magic if he needed it.

“Declare yourself,” Arthur hissed through gritted teeth, locking him in this position, “or am I to fight a nameless coward in the dark?” 

In an instant, more voices and footsteps appeared, this time the leader of the pack swinging a powerful torch. Arthur squinted at them through the sudden light, mouth dropping and bringing the sword down to his side in an instant. 

Their cloaks, now illuminated by the flickering torch, were Camelot red. Merlin stumbled backward, not relinquishing the frying pan, heart still racing with adrenaline. 

“Who is that-- your majesty? What-- what are you doing here?” the bearded leader asked incredulously. The men around him shifted uneasily, and though Merlin still couldn’t see their faces in the dim light, he could feel the tenseness of the moment. Arthur drew himself up, resheathing his sword.

“Yes, Sir Calvin,” Arthur said in annoyance, evidently recognizing the knight, and stepping away from Daegal even further in his agitation, “it is I. I think I should be asking you the same question.”

“We were sent out as a search party, Sire,” Sir Calvin explained in his shock, “for the escaped Druid boy.” 

“A search party?” Arthur exclaimed, adopting the most princely, prattish tone that Merlin had ever heard come out of his mouth, “at this godforsaken hour? What were you hoping to achieve-- scaring the sleeping deer? Interrupting my sleep?” 

“Uh-- sorry, Sire,” Sir Calvin said, obviously taken aback, but not before curiously waving the torch in Merlin’s direction. Merlin winced at the sudden light illuminating him. He gulped, not daring to glance at the sleeping boy behind him, who thankfully hadn’t made a sound, and was still tucked in with a blanket up to his chin. 

Merlin was suddenly thankful for the darkness hiding his face.

“...and that’s my idiot manservant, as you perfectly well know,” Arthur growled in the same, bored tone, “must I, the crown prince, have you search my campsite as well? Honestly, sending out a search party at this time... useless...” 

Merlin was suddenly reminded of Morgana’s confidence when she had hidden Mordred behind the screen in her chambers.

“But you-- you have three horses. If it’s only you and the boy...” Sir Calvin pointed out confusedly. The knights shuffled together, most of them resheathing their swords. Merlin’s heart quickened again. 

Arthur grumbled under his breath. 

“Do you honestly think I would go on a hunting trip completely alone with this idiot?” Arthur said in a would-be-patient tone, “without any other protection? I brought a knight with me, and no, you are not rudely waking him up as well as you did us.” 

“Right, Sire,” Sire Calvin said awkwardly, backing away. The knights whispered among themselves awkwardly, some of them ducking their heads apologetically in Arthur’s direction.

“The Druid boy is likely long gone, or sleeping like any other reasonable person,” Arthur said firmly, “you will ALL go back to the castle, and resume your search party in the morning.”

With a chorus of ‘yes, Sire’’s the crew of caped figures receded into the night, and the quiet, calm still returned-- but Merlin still could feel his heart beating out of his chest, breathes coming in erratically. 

That could have cost them all their lives. 

Arthur exhaled softly, and there was a long period of tense silence in which they waited for the knights to be out of earshot and for their eyes to adjust somewhat to the harsh darkness. Arthur threw down his sword at the first opportunity, making Merlin jump.

“Idiots,” Arthur snapped angrily, obviously uneasy, “those arrogant fools are searching at NIGHT this far in the bloody forest over a harmless boy, I can’t believe it--” 

“Arthur,” Merlin muttered, horrified, running a hand through his hair, “the-they almost got him. They--” 

He stumbled back again, almost tripping in his shock, but a hand appeared through the dark, gripping his shoulder steadily.

“They didn’t though, Merlin,” Arthur said confidently, “I would never let that happen.” 

Merlin shook his head, still feeling jittery and paranoid, but Arthur merely knelt next to Daegal, motioning for Merlin to join him. 

“Look,” Arthur said softly, “I don’t believe it-- the kid slept through all of that madness.” 

Merlin sighed shakily. Sure enough, Daegal was still in the same position, eyes closed and expression relaxed. Arthur chuckled in disbelieving amazement. 

“Perhaps you two are more alike than I thought,” he said amusedly, brushing a bit of hair out of Daegal’s eyes, “you do sleep like a rock, Merlin,” 

Merlin shook his head, finally sitting down next to Daegal as though he might disappear, still unable to shake the paralyzing moment when he thought that they’d all be taken into custody.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, touching his shoulder, “it’s alright. Everyone’s alright.”

“I’m sorry,” Merlin mumbled, blinking back his tears. 

“You’re being silly, Merlin,” Arthur said quietly in his confusion, and Merlin could practically make out his smile in the dark, “you have nothing to be sorry for.”

He was thankful that Arthur couldn’t see him clearly, as his heart dropped at those words. Suddenly the weight of his destiny had returned, the overwhelming pile of lies, the secrets that he had concealed threatening to strangle him.

Which was maybe why, as Arthur pulled him into a crushing embrace, muttering nonsensical words of comfort (and a few of his standard insults), Merlin just sighed and hugged him tightly back. 

Maybe destiny could just let him have this one thing.


	5. Revelations

The early morning brought an unusual quietness between Merlin and Arthur after the previous night's excitement-- Merlin and Arthur both treading carefully, looking quizzically at each other when they thought the other wasn’t looking. 

When Daegal awoke, all sunny smiles and endless ‘thank you’s’, Merlin didn’t have the heart to tell him how close they had come to getting caught. And, when he glanced over at Arthur, who was watching the smaller boy protectively, neither did he. 

Not to mention the kiss. 

Arthur didn’t say a word about it, the only hint that it had occurred slipping its way into his semi-anxious glances at Merlin, who was enthusiastically avoiding his problems despite the raging battleground of his thoughts. 

‘I love him, but Arthur can’t know about my magic.’  
‘I love him, but Arthur can’t know about Daegal.’  
‘I love him, but Arthur can’t--’  
‘Arthur can never--’  
‘Arthur would never--’

“Shut up,” Merlin muttered sharply to himself under his breath, trying to focus on the task at hand and causing Daegal to look at him in shock.

‘Are you alright, Emrys?’ Daegal sent the thought warily. 

‘Fine,’ Merlin thought back in an instant, trying to force down the uneasiness settling in his chest.

He was always fine. 

Had HAD to be fine if he didn’t want to make mistakes.

Mistakes cost lives, and Merlin couldn’t-- he WOULDN’T lose Arthur.

Merlin merely busied himself with the cooking and the cleaning, making some lighthearted comments to the two. Arthur sharpened his sword-- peppering in a few recycled comebacks to Merlin’s jokes-- but even he seemed a bit distant. 

It was, in many ways, just as it had always been-- but something had shifted between them. Waiting to be discovered.

So, as they rode further through the beautiful forest, the trees thinning and the peaceful bubbling stream echoing beside them, Arthur did not talk to Merlin. 

Instead, he turned to Daegal, curiosity entering his expression.

“You and Merlin were separated then,” Arthur remarked out of the blue, “so you grew up in different places.”

Daegal looked up, blinking, and opened his mouth looking thoroughly bewildered for a moment. 

‘Brothers, remember?’ Merlin thought to him dryly, half-amused and half-worried at Daegal’s clear lack of ability to lie. 

“Right,” Daegal said aloud, sheepishly shaking his head, “um… yes, Em- Merlin and I did. Er-- grow up apart.” 

“Tell me about YOUR home then,” Arthur ordered softly with childlike curiosity, before reiterating quickly, “I know you lived in the mountains, but it would be helpful to know more about it.” 

Daegal nodded, expression brightening. He looked to Merlin by default, as if asking permission, who simply smiled at him encouragingly.

“Go on,” he said aloud with a grin, “it had to have been a bit more interesting than Ealdor.” 

“Of course,” Daegal replied, a smile growing on his face, “it’s just in those mountains in the distance, which is capped with snow, next to a beautiful lake…” 

Daegal continued enthusiastically, describing how the Druids took care of their tiny, remote encampment: how colorful lights would rise from the mirror-like lake in the spring, how children would play in the meadow or alongside the shore, and how the reflection of the sky melted into the ripples of splashes and laughter. 

He also described, with a more hesitant look at Arthur, who simply interested himself with the trees passing by as he listened, the magical ceremonies that would take place-- enrapturing Merlin with the glowing leaves that matched the golden eyes of their camp’s leader as he made flowers bloom out of his palm.

Merlin soaked it all in, thinking absentmindedly of Freya-- his first love, who would always have a place in his heart, and wondered if she had grown up in a similar place. A place that was full of peace, love, and freedom. 

He hoped so.

“It sounds...beautiful,” Arthur said softly. The blonde had an indiscernible, vulnerable look in his eye as he rode, looking lost in thought as well. 

Merlin realized, with a jolt, that he probably had never talked peacefully with a Druid before, or knew anything about their ceremonies-- certainly not under his father’s rule. 

“It is,” Daegal agreed eagerly, before flushing and looking down after his rambling description, “beautiful, I mean.” 

“I should like to meet yours and Merlin’s father,” Arthur said thoughtfully to the two, “when we get to your home.”

Merlin and Daegal shared an awkward glance, Daegal biting his lip. 

“He’s a private man,” Daegal lied finally, glancing down at the reins in his hand, “he’s not very fond of Camelot so… I don’t know.” 

‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,’ Merlin told Daegal telepathically, hating more than ever the lie that continued to build upon itself but feeling more relief at the thought of Daegal’s safety. 

Arthur nodded slowly. 

“I see,” he replied delicately, his closed-off expression returning. Merlin imagined that Arthur was the struggle between being Prince and a man, performing a duty, or helping a friend.

He could relate. 

“Merlin,” Arthur started hesitantly, “when you said that you grew up apart, how did you know...”

He trailed off, halting suddenly on his horse, and motioning for them to stop. They sat in silence, listening to the wind sifting through the trees, waiting with bated breath as Arthur turned minutely-- looking through the trees with suspicious eyes.

“What is it,” Merlin muttered apprehensively under his breath, but Arthur merely shook his head, mouth curved into a careful frown.

“I thought I heard--” Arthur said, his voice hushed and low. 

Then what seemed to be a gang of ten or twelve yelling men powered through the trees on their horses, swords held high and menacing. 

‘Bandits!’ Daegal’s terrified thought barely registered in Merlin’s brain as he watched the men advance at a dizzying speed.

Arthur drew his sword in an instant, tossing his dagger handle-first to Merlin who caught it deftly and then charged the men with a roar. 

“Daegal, RUN!” Merlin shouted with half a glance toward Daegal, before following Arthur's lead. Sword clashed with a sword, and the silence of the forest became a cacophony of grating, reverberating noise. 

Merlin glanced up, subtly taking down three men without even thinking about it. Tree branches were his specialty, after all. 

He leaped clumsily off his horse, ducking under the blades of men flying past him, running full speed after Arthur-- who was treating the barrage much like a strange, skewed jousting match. 

He careened valiantly toward the men with moves that Merlin recognized from various tournaments, horse whinnying in its agitation.

In his haste to Arthur, Merlin only had time to register a nearing yell coming from somewhere on his left. 

‘EMRYS!’  
“MERLIN WATCH OUT!” Daegal’s warning yell and the thought came almost simultaneously, and before Merlin knew it, one of the bandits hurtling toward him was inexplicably flying backward. 

Merlin whirled around in time to see Daegal, hand raised, and expression fierce. Daegal was using magic, though not as strong as Merlin.

‘Thanks,’ he thought, turning back a little guiltily at the boy he’d all but left behind. Daegal just nodded, jerking his head toward Arthur, who had glanced back to check on him at Daegel’s yell, blue eyes wild.

Then everything seemed to happen in slow motion-- the two men that Arthur had been fighting caught up with him. 

Arthur, still turned to Merlin, was lowering his sword slightly in his relief. 

Two more men near Merlin were changing course in Arthur’s direction. 

Then, finally, the burly man closest to Arthur was swinging his long blade, in one fatal motion toward Arthur’s exposed neck.

Merlin vaguely registered Daegal’s choked yell; the boy was sprinting forward almost unconsciously, but Merlin knew he wouldn’t reach Arthur in time on foot. 

So Merlin, in one desperate motion, raised his hand, a flow of raw power surging hot within him-- and in an instant, all five men flew off their horses and into the surrounding trees. 

They lay, unmoving, leaves flying up with the impact at which they hit the ground. 

There was a silent pause and Merlin looked nauseously down at the fallen men, unable to look back up at Arthur, heart beating erratically and the breath trapped in his throat.

There was no way that Arthur hadn’t seen that. 

“Merlin…” Arthur started sharply. 

Merlin looked up shakily, just in time to see Arthur, mouth open in shock and eyes filled with hurt. 

"Arthur," Merlin choked out, stunned, before a bolt from a rogue crossbow appeared out of nowhere, sinking deep into his shoulder in an explosion of pain.

Merlin let out a breath, hardly even registering what had happened before he was jerking back at its force, hitting the ground, and staring up at the hazy azure sky. 

He let out a pained groan, hand scrabbling up to his shoulder, where the bolt was firmly stuck, staring at his fingers that were suddenly coated red with blood.

“MERLIN!” he could hear Daegal nearing voice shouting in shock, “MERLIN, NO!” 

‘Emrys, Emrys, answer me!’ Daegal switched tactics, sending the urgent and panicked thought, but Merlin couldn’t even summon the mental strength to answer him.

Arthur knew.  
Arthur KNEW. 

He closed his eyes, pushing down the repressed tears, the years of secrets and pain, but at no avail. He let out one convulsive, gasping cry, and then another.

‘I didn’t want to tell him like this.’ he couldn’t help but think wildly, ‘it wasn’t supposed to be this way.’

When he opened them again, Daegal was staring down at him worriedly, pressing his hand to the wound, yelling words Merlin couldn’t make out, holding Merlin’s hand in his own, but Merlin could only look at him, tears streaming down his face. 

This was his mighty Emrys.

‘I’ve failed,’ Merlin whispered in his thoughts, ‘I’ve failed my destiny. I’ve failed the magic users. Arthur will never forgive me, he never will love me like this--’

“No,” Daegal whispered, voice breaking and face crumpling with his emotion, “Oh, Merlin, you haven’t failed. You did a good thing.” 

Merlin tried to reach up, to wipe the tears off his face, ashamed that he had been unknowingly broadcasting his thoughts to the Druid boy, but Daegal held his hand tightly, a stubborn look in the younger boy’s eyes.

“Arthur,” Merlin asked aloud, hating that his lip was trembling, “Arthur-- where--” 

Daegal hushed him quietly. 

“I- I think he went to go kill the bandit,” Daegal told Merlin softly, “th-the one that shot you.”

Merlin nodded jerkily. 

"Is-- is he-- is he coming back?" Merlin asked pathetically, staring up at Daegal with fearful eyes, voice sounding distant and unrecognizable even to himself.

Daegal swallowed, mouth twitching.

"I-- I don't know," Daegal whispered. Merlin blinked rapidly. 

“Daegal, y-- you should run while-- while you still can--” Merlin breathed, but Daegal shook his head vehemently.

“I will not leave you Emrys,” Daegal said fiercely, hands pressing around the bolt with an examining eye. Merlin coughed slightly, wincing at the sudden, caging pain that the movement caused before pushing on painfully.

“You-- you do not have to st-stay,” Merlin whispered urgently, voice still shaky, “just be-because I am Emrys. I-- I can’t-- I couldn’t fulfill--” 

“I am not staying because you are Emrys,” Daegal cut in loudly, reaching up and brushing Merlin’s hair out of his eyes, “I am staying because you’re Merlin...”

With a gentle hand, Daegal wiped the tears off of Merlin’s face.

“My brother in magic,” Daegal finished, eyes soft and loyal, “who once saved me.” 

Merlin managed a tremulous smile before he winced in pain again.

“M’ sorry,” he muttered softly, “sorry,” 

"Sh," Daegal was saying firmly, "it's my turn to save you Emrys, let me save you." 

Merlin shook his head, quivering, wishing he had the strength to tell the boy not to bother. That he was beyond saving. 

A world without Arthur meant nothing to Merlin. 

"Emrys?" a familiar voice broke in incredulously, "you-- you even lied about your name?"

Daegal froze, not turning around, but his mouth pressed into a straight line. His grip on Merlin's hand tightened. 

"Arthur," Merlin whispered finally, "I can-- please let me explain."


	6. Breaking Point

Arthur released an angry, derisive laugh-- so unlike anything that Merlin had heard from him. Merlin shuddered. 

“No, Merlin, you don’t GET to explain,” he snapped, then, voice dripping with venom, “or should I even call you that… Emrys.” 

Merlin swallowed hard, trying to raise his head, to meet Arthur’s eyes, but the bolt kept him in place-- shooting sharp pain up his shoulder. 

Another nail in a coffin of his own making. 

“I’m still me, I swear, Arthur…” Merlin sighed. The clouds above were blurring together in his tears. He grimaced, trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall, hardly caring about his wound anymore. Arthur’s tone was enough for him to never want to get up again.

“YOU DON’T GET TO CALL ME THAT!” Arthur shouted, voice breaking, and Merlin could hear his powerful footsteps nearing. Merlin nodded, mouth trembling. Daegal remained crouched, looking over his shoulder at Arthur, who finally entered Merlin’s line of vision, face twisted with rage and sword red with what he assumed to be the bandit's blood.

“And you… calling him a ‘brother in magic’… you’re not even his real brother, are you,” Arthur accused through gritted teeth. Daegal’s scared, blue eyes pleaded with Merlin, who simply shook his head.

‘I cannot lie,’ Merlin said to Daegal in his thoughts, ‘not anymore.’ 

Daegal nodded once, turning back to Arthur.

“No, Sire, I am not,” Daegal admitted softly. Arthur scoffed, sword swishing through the air and making Daegal flinch. 

“Sire, please,” Merlin whispered, wound throbbing in his pain, “I ask you to spare the boy. I-- he-- he is innocent. He did nothing.” 

“Merlin--” Daegal started, turning back to Merlin beseechingly. 

Arthur shook his head, and Merlin could see his hand trembling as he clutched his sword tightly. He looked angrier than Merlin had ever seen him. 

“You USED me, this whole time, telling me all these lies about your-- your family,” Arthur snarled accusingly, with a humorless smile, “and I-- you were my-- you never cared about me--” 

Merlin merely met his gaze levelly, each of Arthur’s words feeling like a punch in the gut. He said nothing, just looking imploringly at the man he loved-- the man he laughed with, protected, and sacrificed for. He looked every inch of Uther’s son. 

Daegal let go of his hands, and Merlin glanced back at the pale boy-- tear tracks still bright on his cheeks. Daegal swallowed hard, sparing Merlin an apologetic glance before turning to Arthur.

“You’re- you’re wrong.” Daegal cut in sharply, voice shaky but determined. Merlin’s gaze snapped to the boy in surprise and horror, but Daegal’s face was suddenly cold as stone-- his wide blue eyes filled with determined faith. 

“You-- stay out of this,” Arthur rounded on Daegal dangerously, with a furiousness that Merlin hardly recognized, “think of who you are talking to.”

“Daegal,” Merlin groaned, “just-- go-- get out of here--”  
‘Daegal, you can’t die with me,’ Merlin tried mentally, ‘please save yourself.’

Daegal ignored him, and Merlin could hardly recognize the shy, tentative boy he had rescued.

Daegal raised his chin.

“I said,” Daegal stated firmly before standing up and fixing Arthur with a steely look, “you are wrong, Arthur Pendragon, about a great many things.” 

Arthur’s jaw dropped, eyes alight with fire. 

“How DARE you,” he snarled, advancing on the boy, sword clenched tightly in an iron grip, “all this time… plotting together against me…”

“Do you ever wonder why the Druids are so peaceful?” Daegal interrupted calmly, not moving an inch. Arthur looked taken aback, eyes still dark with anger. 

“You presume to--” he hissed darkly, but Daegal brushed him off with a strange look in his eye. 

“We have been peaceful,” Daegal told him, voice trembling slightly, “we have been peaceful while your father condemns us for crimes we didn’t commit-- and when he sends men to come to kill us.”

Daegal cleared his throat before continuing, “We have been peaceful even with YOU, Sire, who have slaughtered more of my own than I can count.”

Arthur took half a step back, expression unreadable, and hand twitching on the hilt of his sword.

“Do you ever wonder why?” Daegal repeated challengingly, eyebrows furrowed. 

Merlin gasped shakily. 

‘What are you doing?’ he shouted at Daegal in his head, ‘you’re going to get yourself killed!’

Daegal didn’t respond.

Daegal pointed harshly to Merlin, still staring coldly at Arthur.

“He is the one thing that keeps us from becoming the rest of the magic-users,” Daegal snapped, “the ones-- the ones who try to kill you; those who try to kill your tyrant King.” 

“You dare threaten my Father--” Arthur shouted in a flash of anger, raising his sword again in an instant, but Daegal continued, unmoving. 

“Yes, I dare,” Daegal cut in bravely, arms crossed, “because Merlin’s faith is in you-- his-- his LOVE for you is the only thing that has spared your life. He’s saved you far too many times for me to stand by and listen to this.” 

Arthur froze, for the first time looking uncertain. His face fluctuated between anger and a strange, pained look. He lowered his sword slightly, breathing hard. 

“He believes in the King you will be,” Daegal insisted firmly, “and I believe in the man that he is.”

Daegal stepped in front of Merlin protectively, hands clenched into fists, but Merlin noticed that his hands trembled slightly.

“So... if you take him back to Camelot to be executed,” Daegal stated decidedly, “I will gladly die with him... on your orders.” 

At this Merlin sucked in a horrified breath. Too many people had died for him.

“Daegal, no,” Merlin begged aloud, forcing himself to sit up despite his shoulder screaming at him, “let-- let me die, let me go. It’s alright, just please-- please--”

Daegal shook his head, turning back to Merlin with a sad smile playing on his lips. He turned back in an instant, eyes hard with determination. 

“It is for you, my lord,” Daegal said softly, “Merlin will always be faithful to you and your word, and the Druids will always be faithful to Merlin.” 

Arthur spluttered, looking more confused than ever. 

“Why-- why should I believe any of this?” Arthur asked, sounding more conflicted than ever. Daegal dared to step closer to Arthur, causing Merlin’s heart to quicken in worry. 

“Because he is DYING, Arthur, and he has chosen you to pass judgment on him,” Daegal said urgently, “My people can save him if we get him there quickly, but not-- but not if he doesn’t want to be saved.”

Daegal turned around, crouching down next to Merlin again and forcing him to lie back down despite his protests. Merlin stared up at the boy-- there was no hate in his eye, no fear, just acceptance.

“You’re right about one thing, my lord,” he said softly, “he may not be my brother in blood, but he is a brother to all those who use magic for good-- the ones who are loyal to you and the world you will make.” 

Daegal turned back to look at Arthur one more time, eyes narrowed.

“The choice is yours,” he said curtly. There was an instant when Daegal looked every bit the hardened warrior, and Arthur every bit the terrified boy-- but that instant was gone before Merlin could examine it further.

The three stayed in silence for a long moment, save for Merlin’s panicked breathing. 

Arthur sheathed his sword, and Merlin could see him disappear again-- all the layers coming back up and creating an impenetrable, emotionless mask. He stared at Merlin, eyes bright. 

“Go,” Arthur ordered aggressively. He jerkily took a step back from the two. 

“Sire--” Merlin whispered again, but Arthur shook his head roughly, turning away tensely.

“Take him and go,” Arthur ordered harshly to Daegal, louder now, pointing to one of the horses in one sharp motion, “Get him healed.” 

“Alright,” Daegal replied quietly, clumsily hoisting Merlin up and slinging his uninjured arm over his shoulder. Merlin tried to bite back his cry of pain, but couldn’t quite manage it.

“Sorry, Merlin,” Daegal whispered as the two stumbled slowly to the horse. Merlin clutched his shoulder numbly, feeling nauseous with grief and anxiety. 

He wondered if it was the last time that the man would trust someone. 

He wondered if he’d never see Arthur again.

And, as he and Daegal rode slowly away, he couldn’t help but turn around to look, one more time, at Arthur-- he was crouched in the spot where Merlin had lain, mask cracking, and hands tentatively brushing over the leaves. 

Merlin looked away quickly, a lump in his throat, feeling like he was leaving his whole life behind.


	7. Brother

“Here,” Daegal ordered quietly, poking through Merlin’s satchel and pulling out a couple of apples, holding one out to Merlin beckoningly, “you have to eat, Merlin,” 

They had stopped for a moment, resting under the shade of a scraggly tree before they advanced the mountain to Daegal’s home-- the boy had stubbornly insisted, seeing that Merlin was nearly falling off his horse in his dizziness (though he never would have admitted it). 

Merlin just nodded, hoping he didn't look as miserable as he felt. 

“Thanks,” he said softly to Daegal, trying to inject some life into his tone, but failed miserably. Daegal just nodded, thankfully not pushing the subject, but just settled down next to Merlin, eyes flicking down to his shoulder, where the bolt was lodged. 

Merlin, chewing on a bite of the apple, watched as Daegal’s brave facade slowly faded, the boy biting his lip. He touched the bolt cautiously, shaking his head in distress. Merlin glanced down at the wound-- his shirt was dark with red, with the arrow protruding at a sharp angle. 

It was a heavy, throbbing ache-- one that seemed to tingle and sting into his arm, but he couldn’t bring himself to care too much about it.

‘Maybe it was meant to be this way,’ Merlin thought numbly, with a tinge of bitterness.

“We're-- we’re almost there,” Daegal muttered apologetically, almost to himself, “I-- I don’t want to take it out. It might-- it might--”

“It’ll be alright,” Merlin interrupted faintly, feeling a flicker of fondness despite the hopelessness settling in his chest, “you’re right, I’ll-- I’ll just lose more blood if we take it out now.” 

Daegal swallowed, sitting back on his heels, a helpless look on his face.

“I’m sorry, Merlin,” Daegal said miserably, “I’ve-- I’ve always been rubbish at healing. You’d think that my magic would be useful at a time like this.” 

Merlin let out a chuckle which quickly turned into a feeble cough. 

“No, no-- it’s alright,” he reassured softly at Daegal’s apprehensive look, “it’s just-- I’m rubbish at healing spells too.” 

‘I’m rubbish at everything,’ the dismal thought flitting through his mind unbidden.

“You-- you are? But--” Daegal started, curiousness entering his bright blue gaze.

“But I’m Emrys? ‘Most powerful sorcerer ever to walk the-- the Earth?'” Merlin announced self-deprecatingly, looking down at his hands, “a lot of good that’s doing anyone.” 

“No, that’s not what I was going to say,” Daegal corrected, causing Merlin to look back up at him in surprise. Daegal stumbled to his feet, clumsily picking up some apples that had rolled out of the satchel. 

“It’s because you seem so... confident,” Daegal said, sounding bewildered, “even when we were escaping-- you were fine. And, well…” 

Daegal blushed, looking down at his feet looking rather embarrassed. 

“... I was terrified.” 

Merlin thought, at once, of the veil of fear he’d lived under in Camelot-- hiding and plotting, trying and failing to save people, fearing his heavy destiny. He had been afraid all his life-- even of himself, at times. 

“I--I was scared too, trust me,” Merlin countered honestly, a little flustered, “I think I’m just… a better liar.” 

There wasn’t much to be said to this. Merlin cleared his throat, wound throbbing painfully, Arthur’s accusations floating back to him with vengeance. 

‘...You don’t get to explain.’  
‘You USED me…’

He blinked rapidly, and Daegal kindly averted his eyes, fussing again with the strap of Merlin’s satchel. 

“You, on the other hand, talking to Arthur like that,” Merlin said honestly, after he gathered himself, “that was something I couldn’t do.” 

Daegal shrugged off the praise.

“It’s because I don’t love him as you do,” Daegal responded instantly, crouching down to his knees again to meet Merlin’s eye, “It’s much easier to tell someone the truth when you don’t want to spare their feelings. ” 

Merlin stared at the boy for a moment, mouth agape at the sudden wiseness emanating from him. 

“Not that I know anything about, you know... your destiny,” Daegal backtracked awkwardly, misinterpreting Merlin's look, “you don’t have to listen to me if you don’t want to, Emrys.”

“Are-- are all you Druids so… poetic?” Merlin interrupted with a weak grin. Daegal wrinkled his nose. 

“My sister’s always telling me I sound like a long-bearded old man when I try to give advice,” he grumbled good-naturedly, looking more his age.

“You have a sister?” Merlin replied in surprise before he realized that he knew near nothing about him. They HAD spent most of their time together escaping, after all, which didn't provide the best environment for friendly conversation.

‘Nothing’, Merlin thought wryly, ‘except for the fact that he’s extremely loyal and brave.’

“Yeah,” Daegal responded flippantly, hoisting Merlin onto his feet again with a jolt, “always wanted a brother though, when I was younger.” 

Merlin smiled despite himself at this, and he and Daegal shared a meaningful, amused look. 

Daegal carefully pushed Merlin up onto the horse, Merlin gritting his teeth and swinging his leg over. Merlin sighed in exhaustion at all of the sudden motion, the world swirling for a moment before returning to focus. 

‘Perhaps the blood loss is getting to me after all’, Merlin mused thoughtfully. 

Daegal mounted his horse, matching Merlin’s pace and glancing over at him worriedly. 

They continued in almost somber silence, though Merlin noticed Daegal’s face brightening as they made their way up the small pass, and an infectious smile grew on his face. 

It was a beautiful day-- the sky cloudless and bright, the narrow path lined with vibrant wildflowers and butterflies with paper-thin wings, fluttering through the air and making it look like the colorful petals were coming to life.

Merlin found himself almost forgetting that Arthur wasn’t there riding along behind him, often opening his mouth to say something to him when he saw something interesting-- only to find Daegal watching him, an unreadable look in his eye.

Finally, they turned a corner around a large, imposing rock to see various intricate, colorful tents-- many Druids outside with armfuls of herbs, with children running freely through the soft, long grass. 

Daegal dismounted his horse with ease, skillfully pulling down Merlin, who let out a sharp cry of pain at the unexpected movement. The world again seemed to meld and shift, and Daegal’s hands were the only thing pulling him from sinking into the darkness of his mind.

“Sorry,” Merlin mumbled distantly, almost inaudibly, eyelids feeling heavier than ever. He felt strange, almost like he was floating-- he tried to blink back the dizziness to observe the camp but couldn't quite succeed with it. 

The Druids turned almost at once at the noise and then began a flurry of activity and whispers. Merlin closed his eyes, trying to push down another sudden bout of nausea. 

The Druids had always had a sort of hero-worship for him, and the last thing he wanted from them was their reverence.

Not when he felt like he had failed them.

'Daegal? What's happening?' he tentatively sent the thought, not trusting himself to speak, and feeling almost like they had switched roles with the savior becoming the saved, the protector becoming the protected. 

“It’ll be alright now, Emrys, we’ll get you healed,” Daegal said softly into his ear, lowering him flat on the ground, “just focus on the breathing, alright?”

Before Merlin could formulate a response, there was the patter of light footsteps.

“Daegal! Oh, my son!” 

“Mum!” 

Merlin opened his eyes with a tiny smile, turning his head slightly to see a small Druid woman with a huge smile on her face, the same smile he’d seen on Daegal’s face when he had showered Merlin with endless thank-you's. She engulfed the Daegal into a tight embrace, hands clutching onto the back of his shirt as though he’d disappear if she let go.

At least he hadn’t failed this one person.

“My sweet boy,” she murmured, before pulling back slightly, and glancing down at Merlin, her eyes widening “and…”

Merlin's tiredness was catching up with him, his eyelids fluttering despite him making an effort to keep them open. 

“Mum...this is Merlin,” Daegal explained softly, not letting go of her hand, before using a more urgent tone, “...Emrys... he’s injured we must…”

Merlin sighed, everything else seeming to be a flash of motion and colors. He drifted in and out of the following conversation, but it seemed that more people appeared-- he could feel their hands, lifting him gently, the hum of whispers reaching his ears, but he couldn’t quite make out the words.

“Emrys,” Daegal was saying from what seemed like a great distance away.  
‘Emrys, you must fight,” another tiny voice was insisting.  
‘Emrys,’  
‘Thank you for my son.’  
‘My brother.’  
‘Merlin,’  
‘Thank you,’  
‘Stay strong, Emrys,’

What seemed like a chorus of whispers engulfed his mind, wrapping around him like a warm blanket. It was unlike anything Merlin had ever felt before-- the voices were made of such acceptance, such warmth. Usually, telepathic voices carried some sort of urgent message, regaling Merlin with grim prophecies and warnings. These voices, however, felt like home. 

“You always have a place here, Merlin,” Daegal was saying softly, his voice standing out among the rest, "don't worry about anything else." 

“But-- Arthur,” Merlin murmured urgently, “Arthur…” 

He was torn between dwelling on the conflict that had occurred and giving in to the sweet darkness. 

“Your King will wait for you,” an unfamiliar, older voice was saying wisely, "rest now, Emrys. Your destiny will wait."

Merlin could feel the genuine gratitude of the people who had been condemned for too long, the soft hush of the mountain air, as he slowly sank into unconsciousness. 

Merlin let go.


	8. Once and Future

Merlin awoke thoroughly disoriented, his eyes drawn to the warm sunlight shining through the fluttering, thin fabric of a tent. It was completely quiet, a cool breeze sifting through the thin fabric. Merlin sighed, feeling completely relaxed for a moment. 

Then he sprang up with a start, hand flying to his injured shoulder-- he glanced down in surprise. 

He was shirtless, and the bolt was completely gone. To his shock, he could feel that the wound itself was almost completely healed, and in its place were soft cloth bandages wrapped tightly around his chest. 

‘Magic,’ Merlin thought in wonder, running his fingers over the bandages lightly. No wonder Daegal had been so confident in the Druid’s abilities.

The tingling pain in his arm was gone, and there was a faint smell of rosemary in the room. He shifted under the light blanket, turning to take note of his surroundings, the monstrosity of a day flashing through his muddled mind.

Where had Daegal gone? Was he safe?  
Right, they had made it to Daegal’s home.

Where was Arthur?  
Right. Arthur was gone. 

Merlin sighed, rubbing his nose and trying to gather his thoughts.

What on earth was he going to do now?

“Oh, you’re awake!” a soft voice exclaimed. Merlin jumped, startled, snapping toward the entrance of the tent, where a kindly woman with light brown hair stood, a bowl of flowers and herbs in her arms.

“Oh! Um-- hello,” Merlin greeted needlessly, settling back into his pillows, “I’m-- I’m Merlin. I’m sorry, I don’t know… ” 

The woman lightly set down her bowl, her modest blue dress fluttering in the wind as she did so. 

“I am Morna,” she introduced softly, “how are you feeling?” 

The woman started forward, crouching down next to Merlin with a critical eye-- though there was a warmness about her that put Merlin at ease.

“Much better,” Merlin said quickly, hand again flitting to his shoulder. 

“It is unusual, even with magic, how quickly you healed,” Morna said thoughtfully, reaching out and pressing her small hand against his forehead. 

‘Story of my life,’ Merlin thought to himself sardonically. There was always SOMETHING setting him apart.

“Thank you,” Merlin said, “for-- uh-- healing me. I think I should--” 

He started to get up, already planning in his mind to climb halfway down this godforsaken mountain in pursuit of Arthur.

“You may be mostly healed, but by no means are you ready to do anything strenuous,” she said sternly as if reading his mind, before pushing him back down gently. 

“Morna,” he started urgently after a moment, realizing he had no idea where Daegal was, “the boy that brought me here-- Daegal, is he alright? He’s-- he’s been through quite the journey.” 

Morna softened, something oddly familiar in her smile. 

“He is perfectly fine, thanks to you,” she said gratefully, eyes shining, “He told me everything that you risked for him.” 

Merlin blushed, looking down awkwardly. He was rather unused to receiving praise for anything he’d done involving magic, after all.

“It was nothing,” he said quietly, “Daegal did his fair share of saving me too. He’s… very brave.” 

“Nevertheless,” Morna said meaningfully, reaching out and taking Merlin’s hands in her own, “my son would not be alive if it wasn’t for you. I can’t thank you enough, Emrys.” 

“You’re his…” Merlin started, finally getting a good look at the smaller woman-- finally recognizing her the same woman he had seen before he had fallen unconscious. 

“Merlin,” a familiar voice called out, “you’re awake!” 

“Daegal!” Merlin said with genuine happiness, glancing at the boy who was ducking his way into the tent. He looked content, losing the strange skittish look that he had become accustomed to, and was wearing new, clean clothes, “you’re alright!” 

“Says the man who was shot in the shoulder,” Daegal replied, rolling his eyes. 

“Daegal,” Morna chided, and Daegal ducked his head apologetically, but Merlin just laughed.

Daegal crouched down next to Merlin, setting down a bundle of new forest green clothes next to him, along with the light blue cloak that he had lent him-- which, by the looks of it, had been carefully washed and mended.

“Figured you could use some new clothes,” he explained softly, “they might be a bit small, but they’ll probably fit.”

“Daegal,” Merlin said, meeting the boy’s eye, “thank you. Really.” 

They both knew that it was a thank you for more than the clothes. Daegal smiled at him. 

‘You have my trust, and my family’s too.’ he thought to Merlin genuinely.

Merlin, in a rare form of affection, reached out, squeezed Daegal’s shoulder fondly. He had a strange attachment to the kind boy, a sort of affection he rarely had for people he knew for such short amounts of time.

“So… how long have I been out?” Merlin asked tentatively. Daegal’s smile dropped slightly, and he shared a glance with Morna, who nodded subtly. 

“Well… you’ve been in and out of sleep for two days,” Daegal said finally, causing Merlin to launch back up from his back in his surprise. Morna caught his shoulder again, carefully steadying him.

“Two DAYS?” Merlin said disbelievingly, and eyes wide. There was no way he would catch up with Arthur if he had a two day lead-- with a pang, Merlin realized that the man would probably be sitting in his castle quarters right now. 

He wondered, fleetingly, about Arthur’s return without Merlin. 

Would Arthur tell Gwen or the others that he was closest to about Merlin’s… betrayal? Would he tell Uther?

With a heaviness in his chest, he realized that he’d never even said goodbye to Gaius. Would Arthur seek him out and interrogate him?

“You had quite the fever,” Morna spoke softly, interrupting his thoughts. Merlin sighed agitatedly, running a hand through his hair. 

“I just--” he muttered to himself, closing his eyes, “Arthur-- I need to get back to Camelot-- I need-- he needs me.”

He looked up. Morna and Daegal were watching him, the same unreadable look on the two’s faces. Daegal shifted uncomfortably, and Morna busied herself with sorting some herbs.

“Oh-- not that I don’t appreciate all this, because I do,” Merlin said quickly, “I appreciate everything you’ve done.” 

“Oh, no, it’s not that,” Daegal responded quickly, meeting Merlin’s eye after glancing at Morna again, “it’s just-- the Prince is here already. In our camp, I mean.” 

Merlin swallowed, his throat suddenly feeling like sandpaper, and heart rising to his throat. 

“He’s… here?” he squeaked out finally, “when…” 

“He came about a day after you two arrived,” Morna replied when it looked like Merlin couldn’t formulate a full question. 

“Does he-- um… has he visited me?” Merlin asked awkwardly. He never would have expected Arthur to follow them up here just to drag them back to be executed but… 

He shoved down the niggling hope rising in his chest. 

“He-- he was pretty eager to see you, but we didn’t let him see you yet,” Daegal said calmly, “it’s up to you when-- and if you want to see him.” 

“You… did that?” Merlin said, unsticking his mouth. He didn’t think the blonde listened to anybody. 

Daegal let out a huff of nervous laughter. 

“Well, it was mostly Mum,” he explained, eyes sparkling, “she told him to, er… quit bothering you and let you heal properly.”

Morna shrugged, not looking the least bit apologetic. Merlin, looking at the unassuming, quiet woman suddenly understood where Daegal’s unwavering, unexpected bravery had come from. 

“I-- I think I should talk to him sooner than later,” Merlin said quietly, biting the inside of his cheek anxiously, “I…”

I have a lot to explain.

“Only if you’re ready,” Morna said with a flicker of darkness in her eyes. Merlin nodded, trying to convey that it would be alright-- even if he didn’t know that it would be.

“I am,” Merlin whispered. 

‘I have to be,’ he thought grimly. 

___

Daegal silently assisted him in putting on the soft tunic and pants, helping him gently wriggle his arms through the sleeves without aggravating his wound. He straightened the shirt, letting Merlin twiddle unnecessarily with the fabric in his anxiousness. 

Merlin forced himself to take a deep breath, leaning back into his pillows. To his chagrin, Morna had been right-- just the small movement of getting clothes on had worn him out. He wished he could just get up and pace, as lying still seemed to make everything seem much more unbearable.

Morna had left to fetch Arthur, leaving Daegal and Merlin alone. Waiting. 

“Wait,” Daegal exclaimed, causing Merlin to glance up at him fearfully. 

The boy merely reached up with a smile, deftly untying Merlin’s old blue neckerchief from around his neck, “I do believe this is yours, too.” 

Leaning forward, he tied it back around Merlin’s neck carefully-- as Merlin had once done for him, all the way back in Camelot’s dungeons. Though it had only been a couple of days ago, it felt like a lifetime ago. 

Merlin reached up in surprise, touched that Daegal had remembered such a tiny detail.

“I know I don’t know you well,” Daegal announced suddenly, “or-- or the prince, really, but… know that… know that neither of you is alone. In your destiny I mean.”

Merlin nodded, with a sudden surge of emotion at this statement. It was a strange concept.

Merlin had always been a bit of a loner- in Ealdor, where he had stuck out like a sore thumb, in Camelot as a magic-user, constantly hiding who he was. But, yes, he had always had someone. 

“There’s the poetic advice again, Daegal.” Merlin joked weakly, but he sent Daegal a grateful look. 

There was a shift at the doorway-- Morna had returned, holding up the tent flap, and to her right, Arthur stood-- stiff and awkward and dreadfully tired looking, but THERE. 

Daegal stood up, glancing back at Merlin with a meaningful look.

‘I’m here if you need me,’ he said without words, before brushing past Arthur. 

He and Morna slipped away, leaving Merlin propped up against the pillows and Arthur, hovering awkwardly at the doorway. 

“Sire,” Merlin said, uncharacteristically respectful, trying to be calm despite his growing confusion. Arthur swallowed convulsively, looking at a point over Merlin’s shoulder. 

“Can I come in?” Arthur said finally. 

Merlin raised an eyebrow, feeling very much out of his depth, with the strange feeling that they had suddenly switched roles.

“Of-- of course,” Merlin said with awkward formality, taken aback, “uh-- have a seat. If you like.”

Arthur ducked into the tent, hesitantly sitting down on the floor next to Merlin when he realized he was too tall to stand up. Merlin tried not to think about how close together they were sitting. 

“So…” he prompted, when it seemed like Arthur wasn’t going to say anything, “you came back, then.”

“I did,” Arthur said shortly, “I did.” 

He didn’t provide any explanation. Close up, Arthur looked terrible. There were dark circles under his eyes, he looked pale and drawn, and he still was wearing the same, blood-stained clothes he had worn when he was fighting the bandits. 

“How are you feeling?” Arthur said quietly, eyes fixed to Merlin’s shoulder. 

“I’m-- I’m alright,” Merlin replied, glancing down at his shoulder agitatedly, “the wound is nearly gone, but I still can’t walk around or anything.” 

Arthur hummed, looking troubled. 

“So… that was … magic, then. The healing.” Arthur probed, looking uncomfortable-- though a curious glint was sparkling in his dark eyes. 

“Yes,” Merlin said truthfully, meeting Arthur’s gaze levelly. 

“Right,” Arthur muttered, looking down again. Then the horrible thought crossed his mind-- was Arthur going to target the magic users who had helped him? Was this all an elaborate plan to get Merlin to admit things? 

“Why-- why are you here?” Merlin burst out, anxiety bubbling over in his mind, “not that I don’t-- uh-- appreciate the visit, but--”

“I am REALLY angry, Merlin,” Arthur cut in, rubbing the bridge of his nose, looking tense.

Merlin gulped.

Perhaps he WAS going to be dragged back to his execution after all.

“I-- the way we left things-- I just was furious, and you LIED to me, Merlin, but--” Arthur continued with a shaky sigh, “I couldn’t-- I couldn’t just leave you.” 

“You did though,” Merlin replied instinctively, before wincing at how callous he sounded.

“I did,” Arthur just agreed tiredly, “I did leave you.” 

Merlin looked down, unwillingly remembering how terrible that day had been, and how awful it had felt, staring up at Arthur’s betrayed glare-- he honestly hadn’t expected to see the man again.

“Merlin…” Arthur started, voice low, “I-- I don’t regret anything more.” 

Merlin looked up. Arthur’s eyes were strangely shiny, and his hands were balled up in fists. 

“I-- I still don’t get it, the… magic,” Arthur whispered, looking haunted, “but-- but-- you were DYING, Merlin-- or Emrys or whoever the hell you are,” 

Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but Arthur shook his head vehemently.

“I-- I left you, my... friend, and you were bleeding out on the ground,” Arthur continued, “I don’t know-- I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

He put his head in his hands, and Merlin had to keep himself from reaching out to comfort him.

“I lied, Arthur-- Sire,” Merlin said, confused, “I knew the law. I knew why.” 

“I know that,” Arthur snapped, looking angry, “I wanted to leave you, but I-- I can’t.”

Merlin flinched back at his tone but didn’t argue. There was a tense silence. Merlin watched apprehensively as Arthur glanced around the tent, seeming to look at everything except for Merlin.

“There’s a prophecy then,” Arthur said finally, “about us.”

Merlin nodded slowly.

“Did-- did the Druids tell you about it?” Merlin asked tentatively. Arthur snorted.

“They just said that the ‘time of Albion’ is in my hands,” Arthur commented confusedly, before shooting Merlin a sideways glance. 

“Vague as ever, then,” Merlin said in amusement, forgetting who he was talking to and instantly curling away from the man. To his immense surprise, Arthur just snorted. 

“Indeed,” Arthur remarked, “They also mentioned that you-- you are my... PROTECTOR of sorts.” 

Merlin flushed. 

“Did they now?” he said, trying to force some calmness into his voice.

“They seem to be quite… loyal to you,” Arthur remarked softly, “almost like-- you are their king or something.” 

Merlin wrinkled his nose, sinking further into his pillows.

“Never understood that,” he muttered, “I’m just… me. I didn’t ask for all of this, you know. I’m just, y’ know, Merlin from Ealdor. THEY were the ones who gave me the name Emrys.” 

Arthur shifted at this, fixing Merlin with a steely look.

“And yet you ARE like a king,” Arthur disputed quietly, causing Merlin to glance at him in mild shock, “a fair and just king who would do anything to save their subject.”

“No, no, that’s just wrong,” Merlin spluttered, hating the thought instantly, “I’m your SERVANT Arthur, I’m not a king or anything, I just-- Daegal was just a boy, and I couldn’t just leave him there--”

He was interrupted by the unexpected sound of Arthur’s laughter. Arthur shook his head, a smile tinged with sadness.

“Any other man would have taken that as a compliment, you know,” Arthur said fondly, raising an eyebrow. Merlin shook his head, unamused.

“I follow you, Arthur, I always have done,” Merlin started indignantly. He wasn’t some magical, powerful king, that’s for sure. He never had wanted anything like that in his life.

“You do not need to defend your loyalty to me, Merlin,” Arthur stated firmly, “I... just have never met someone like you before. I… don’t know what to do.”

“I feel the same,” Merlin replied easily. They stared at each other, part of that strange distance between them closing, just the slightest bit. 

“I lied, Arthur, about many things I’ve done,” Merlin told Arthur honestly, “but I never lied about you. About how I-- how I feel about you.” 

Arthur sighed, closing his eyes at Merlin’s words.

“God help me,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair, “but I understand that.” 

Arthur opened his eyes again, a determined look entering his gaze. He reached forward, hand brushing over Merlin’s lightly before he pulled it back. 

Merlin swallowed, searching Arthur’s eyes for a sign, but Arthur just looked woefully lost.

“You’ve followed me for so long, Merlin,” Arthur told him seriously, “perhaps... perhaps it is time for me to follow you.” 

Merlin nodded, stunned at Arthur’s words. 

There was still anger in his eyes, the strange closed-off man he hardly knew was still present, but there was also a glimmer of Arthur- HIS Arthur in there, giving him a chance. 

He would never take that chance for granted.


	9. Good Magic

Merlin told Arthur everything-- that is, everything he could remember.

It was quite intimidating when all of the memories seemed to tumble out of him in one, big, complicated jumble in no particular order. It did, however, get easier the more he talked.

Arthur just sat, completely silent, listening attentively. Merlin couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to Arthur without SOME kind of comeback, and he kept having to glance up to see if Arthur was still there. 

At long last, Merlin finally ran out of breath, necessitating Arthur to pour him a glass of water into a small wooden bowl next to him, hands lingering on the edge in case Merlin dropped it. Merlin sipped on it thankfully, watching Arthur, who seemed to be contemplating something, anger long since evaporated to be replaced by a disbelieving look.

“You-- you seem to be taking this rather well,” Merlin prompted hopefully, cautiously setting down the bowl. Arthur sighed, leaning back on his hands, mouth agape. He opened his mouth and then closed it again, seeming to gather his thoughts before speaking. 

“Merlin,” he said, voice incredibly calm, “you are a total idiot. A-- a cabbage head, turnip-head, clot-pole, or whatever it is you call me all the time. You... are incredibly stupid.”

Merlin just blinked at him. Arthur shook his head, a long-suffering look on his face.

“I think you must have some sort of mental issue like Gaius always says you do,” Arthur continued, tone edging on hysterical. Merlin raised an eyebrow, wondering what on earth he had done to deserve such a barrage of insults. 

Well, it was better than being executed.

“The first thing you see in Camelot is an execution, and what do you do? Save my life-- the CROWN PRINCE’S life-- with magic.”

“Ah, well,” Merlin muttered modestly, awkwardly shrugging, “just trying to do the right thing.”

“The right thing--” Arthur spluttered, leaning forward and meeting Merlin’s eyes in confused astonishment, “you didn’t even LIKE me when you first met me. I nearly took you out with a mace, remember?” 

“Well, you were a bit of a prat then,” Merlin replied with a grin, before continuing seriously, “but you didn’t deserve to die over someone else’s sins.” 

“You could have killed my father any time you liked too,” Arthur muttered, ignoring Merlin’s remark, “I don’t get it-- he is the center of all this-- this hatred for magic, and you--”

“It wouldn’t be the right thing to do,” Merlin said firmly, “it would provoke more fear of magic if I killed him, and it would--” 

Merlin cut himself off, biting his lip.

“It would what?” Arthur asked sharply.

“It would hurt you,” Merlin said softly. Arthur again seemed to be at a loss for words, eyes comically wide.

Then he just sighed again, throwing up his hands in exasperation.

“MERLIN,” he snapped again, making Merlin jump, “just-- why do you have to be so…so...”

“So… what?” Merlin asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

“So… good!” Arthur finally spat out, looking genuinely concerned, almost as if he wanted to reach out and shake Merlin by the shoulders. Merlin closed his mouth with a click, flushing under Arthur’s intense scrutiny.

“Um…” Merlin started awkwardly, “I’m not all that good, you know I’ve made mistakes--”

“Do you even HEAR yourself?” Arthur interrupted in disbelief, “you’re so stupidly NICE that you can’t even see it. You-- you couldn’t even tell me about your bloody magic because it was your ‘right thing’ to do.”

“Er-- sorry?” Merlin said blankly, glancing over at the distressed man in worry, “are you-- are you angry?”

Arthur seemed to deflate at Merlin’s words, shaking his head.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered under his breath, but at Merlin’s continued apprehensive stare, his expression changed-- his blue eyes determined and stance firm.

There was a pause in which Merlin remembered the terrible moment-- Arthur’s accusations, riding away from one another to never see each other again… he glanced up at Arthur, who was staring at him quizzically.

Arthur raised an eyebrow, looking a bit amused and more as the Arthur Merlin knew. 

“Well, it would be a bit stupid of me to harbor anger toward someone who seems to have the-- the PROBLEM of continually saving my life.” 

Merlin’s mouth twitched.

“Are you calling yourself my ‘problem’?” he joked. Arthur opened his mouth, eyes flickering with surprise and affection, and for a moment it seemed like nothing had changed.

Daegal poked his head into the tent, meeting eyes with Merlin. Arthur’s expression immediately flattened with wariness. 

“Everything alright in here?” he asked the two aloud, eyes fierce with protectiveness when he glanced over at Arthur. 

‘You’ve been in there a while,’ he sent the thought privately to Merlin. 

‘Yes, Daegal,’ Merlin thought fondly, glancing at Arthur’s determined blue eyes, ‘I think it will be.’

Daegal nodded, relaxing slightly.

‘Our camp has prepared dinner for you both if you’re up for it.’ Daegal sent the thought with a smile.

“That sounds lovely,” Merlin thanked Daegal aloud, ‘that’s very kind of you Daegal.’

“Of course,” Daegal said softly, with one of his halfway shrugs, before disappearing again. Merlin chuckled slightly, shaking his head.

“That boy…” he muttered to himself.

Arthur glanced uncomprehendingly at Merlin, and then to the spot where Daegal had been, looking a bit lost.

“What-- neither of us replied to him…?” he commented in bewilderment. Merlin winced.

That’s what he had forgotten about...

Telepathy. 

“About that…” 

___

A few bumbling explanations later (both of which involved Arthur yelling about how he KNEW something was up with Merlin and his ‘brother’), Daegal and Arthur were on either side of Merlin, holding him steady as they slowly made their way to the center of the camp despite Merlin’s assurances that he could walk on his own. 

“So, is it normal for the whole camp to eat together?” Arthur asked, with a sidelong glance at Daegal. The two seemed to have reached a sort of silent understanding, and Merlin could hear a tinge of respect in Arthur’s voice toward the boy who had stood up to him so fiercely. 

“Not...usually,” Daegal said softly, “They’re mostly all coming together because of… you both being our guests.”

Arthur’s grip tightened on Merlin’s arm with a faraway look in his eyes. Merlin had to restrain himself from patting his shoulder reassuringly.

“Daegal I-- … don’t want to... offend anyone,” Arthur said awkwardly, “are you sure they’re alright with me being here? I mean...”

He trailed off. Merlin tried to picture Uther coming to a Druid camp meal but couldn’t quite manage it. 

He smiled softly. 

Arthur was everything that Uther wasn’t, even if he didn’t know it. 

“You helped save me too,” Daegal replied reasonably, looking unbothered, “they do not judge you for the rules that you do not enforce.” 

Arthur just nodded stiffly, looking somewhat unconvinced, and they continued their slow walk through layers of vibrant, patterned tents all fluttering quietly in the wind. The camp was silent, down a short grassy path, and into a lush green opening where the Druids sat in a circle, chatting amongst themselves, a few giggling children roaming in the middle of it.

As they neared, the chatter faded to silence. A tall, robed man with long silver hair and tawny dark skin stood up, gracefully making his way across the circle toward them. Daegal straightened, and Merlin found himself mimicking his stance in his nervousness.

“Welcome,” he said softly, his penetrating dark eyes brushing over Arthur and locking with Merlin’s. They shared a long look.

“Sé fyrngidol hæfd been gebeorc, Emrys,” he intoned solemnly, the ancient tongue washing over Merlin like a whispering lullaby and seeming to ripple through the silence.

_The ancient prophecy has been awakened, Emrys._

Merlin gulped, feeling goosebumps prickling on his arms at his words.

He could feel Arthur’s grip tightening on his shoulder protectively again. Merlin reached up unconsciously, placing his hand over his. 

“Sé forebodung sy soþ,” Merlin replied firmly, not realizing that he, too, had slipped into the alluring language of the old religion. 

_The prophecy is true._

Arthur shifted beside him in his surprise but didn’t move away.

The man’s serene expression flickered, and a soft smile appeared on his lips. 

“Tréowlufu,” he said softly, simply. 

_True love._

Merlin’s heart jumped, and he glanced up at Arthur instinctively, eyes wide, forgetting for a moment that Arthur couldn’t understand what they were saying. Arthur was shifting uncomfortably, and glancing at Merlin in a silent question. 

Before Merlin could conjure up a reply, the man had moved to Arthur, a more peaceful look on his face. 

“Your Highness,” he said quietly, with a careful bow, “I am Ravian, the leader of this camp. We… thank you for returning our wayward young one.” 

Daegal ducked his head sheepishly, and Merlin glanced at the boy with an amused smile.

“It was a pleasure,” Arthur replied easily, eyes sparkling as he too glanced over at a blushing Daegal, “thank you all for your hospitality, and for healing my friend.” 

Ravian’s smile grew, and the other Druids, still silent behind him, glanced at each other knowingly. Merlin could feel his heart quickening, a blush climbing to his cheeks. 

The word ‘friend’ rather than ‘servant’ was lost on no one. 

“Anyhow,” Ravian said, the moment finally breaking. The Druid’s collectively went back to their chatter and laughter. Merlin couldn’t help but feel as if he and Arthur had passed some sort of test.

“Help yourselves to whatever you would like. Tonight is about a celebration.” 

The man reached forward, grasping Daegal’s free arm paternally.

“We are happy you’re home,” Ravian said with a grin that Daegal returned. 

“Daegal!” a small voice careened toward them out of nowhere, and in an instant, a tiny girl was launching herself at Daegal, her small arms wrapped around his middle, “c’mon, come on-- Mom made goose for us, it’s your favorite!” 

“Aime,” Daegal exclaimed beseechingly, grasping her in a hug with his free arm, and he glanced at Merlin and Arthur apologetically.

“Go on,” Arthur ordered, securing his grip around Merlin, and looking as if he was biting back a laugh, “I’ve got Merlin.”

Daegal grinned, letting go of Merlin and picking up Aime and spinning her around before setting her down again. 

“You missed torturing your older brother then?” Daegal remarked, but Aime merely grinned, tugging him along with her until their voices had faded into the colorful crowd of Druids. Ravian, with one last lingering glance at Merlin, trailed after them. 

Arthur cleared his throat, raising an eyebrow at Merlin.

“What...was that?” he whispered confusedly, jerking his head toward Ravian. Merlin bit back a chuckle.

“They get more cryptic every time we meet,” Merlin said reassuringly, “it’s a thing.” 

“No-- the language that you spoke?” Arthur pressed. Merlin bit his lip, but there was only curiosity in Arthur’s eyes.

“Oh… that was the language of the Old Religion,” Merlin replied awkwardly, “of… magic.” 

Arthur was silent at this. Merlin looked down, heart sinking.

“Emrys, Emrys!” 

There was a patter of little feet, and Merlin looked up surprised to see three pairs of curious eyes and tiny children smiles. They grinned up at him brandishing plates of food. 

“Why thank you,” Merlin said kindly, taking one of the plates with an awkward little bow that made the group giggle. In a flurry of activity, the group showered Merlin with questions, and with Arthur’s help he dutifully crouched down to answer each one of them.

A little boy with a baby blue cape and curly blonde hair bravely offered a plate to Arthur as well, who took it carefully with a small smile. He smiled shyly at him before skittering back behind the group. 

“Can you show us something Emrys?” one of the braver young boys asked eagerly, with a wide smile, “please?” he tagged on as an afterthought. 

Merlin took an internal breath and forced himself to not look at Arthur. 

He knows now. 

“Of course,” he said softly. He swallowed, closing his hands for a moment, muttering a quick spell, and opening them again to reveal a small flame. 

With a muttered spell, the flames parted into a million different directions and suddenly streams of sparkling, gold butterflies were rocketing into the darkening sky like a swirling sun. He let it rise for a moment, before letting it disperse in a million different directions, almost like tiny stars falling to Earth.

He smiled, watching the children chase after some straggler butterflies wistfully, some muttering their spells that caused small sparks to join the display; other Druids glancing over to watch fondly. 

Camelot may be his home, but this freeness was something that he would always long for.

He took a moment to soak in the scene before glancing over at Arthur, who was watching, mouth parted, the cloud of gold reflecting into his eyes-- almost as if he, himself, had absorbed a tiny bit of that magic. 

Arthur let out a surprised sort of gasp, finally looking at Merlin with an unidentifiable glimmer in his wide eyes. 

“Merlin, I-- I’ve never seen magic,” he said finally, stumbling over his words in his shock, “not like this. I didn’t know it COULD do this.” 

Merlin chuckled, a little self-deprecatingly, staring fixedly at his knees. 

“I’ve always been a bit of an exception,” he said tiredly, “always had more magic than I knew what to do with, and--”

“Merlin-- it’s-- it’s beautiful,” Arthur cut in breathlessly, and Merlin’s head jolted upright again in shock. He looked at Arthur in disbelief, only to find him staring right back, expression open and honest, and almost awestruck.

Merlin could feel his breath catching in his shock, a warm feeling working its way through his chest, and suddenly he felt alive again-- the same sort of living he had felt when Arthur’s lips met his for the first time when everything felt RIGHT. 

When Merlin didn’t reply, Arthur shifted closer to him, glancing almost shyly at the ground again.

“Can you--” he started hesitantly when Merlin didn’t reply, “can you show me something else?”

“Something else,” Merlin replied dumbly, with a shaky sort of laugh, “yeah-- I mean-- yes!” 

He took a deep breath, shifting slightly to face Arthur. 

In an instant, he conjured a simple orb of light-- not the same, flashy gold display, rather a mesmerizing, swirling blue-- almost reminiscent of water captured in glass. He let it rotate serenely for a moment, losing himself in the magic for a moment. 

Then, with the flick of his hand, the orb melded and warped before settling on a fluffy white cloud. 

Arthur reached out hesitantly, brushing his fingertips over it before it, too, joined the dusky sky-- merely another cloud among many, its origin never to be questioned by a passerby. 

With a sniff, he let out a wistful sigh, wiping away a few stray tears brimming over his eyes. He laughed sheepishly, shaking his head and drinking in the evening air.

It had been a long, long time since he could do magic like this.

Merlin watched as it traveled up, unnoticed, not even looking down until he heard Arthur’s shaky breath, and suddenly he was being pulled into a tight hug. 

“Oh, Merlin,” Arthur whispered in his ear, voice muffled, “I’m so, so sorry,” 

“Arthur,” Merlin replied gently, overwhelmed at this sudden show of affection, especially in front of people, “it’s alright, it’s not your fault.”

“No,” Arthur said vehemently, pulling back, thumb brushing over Merlin’s cheek, “my Father-- it’s just-- you should be allowed to be who you are. It’s--you’re wonderful, Merlin.” 

“You’re going to make me cry again, you prat,” Merlin muttered amusedly, blinking rapidly, but Arthur continued his serious and unwavering stare. Merlin, after taking a moment to collect himself, just sighed, patting Arthur’s knee. 

“I have you now, don’t I?” Merlin said with a half-smile.

Arthur shook his head stubbornly.

“You deserve so much more,” Arthur said honestly, looping an arm around Merlin’s waist. 

Merlin rest his head on Arthur's shoulder, and together they watched the sunset in a wash of yellows and reds, the Druid children being carried back to their fluttering tents by their doting parents, the echoes of magic still ripe in the air--

Blissfully unaware of the struggles that the next day would bring. 


End file.
